


Never Slows Down

by purpledaisy



Series: Wild Love [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 13:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14749995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpledaisy/pseuds/purpledaisy
Summary: “Maybe we should just have one place instead,” he says. “Just move in together.” It’s heavier out loud, the first time either one of them has made an outright mention of it.Harry keeps his back turned, the running water of the sink the only sound. Louis wants to say something stupid, something like, “Just kidding,” or, “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,” but he doesn’t. Now, out loud, lingering, he doesn’t want to change the words he’s just said or the implication.It must only be a few seconds but it feels like a lifetime before Harry turns off the water and turns to face him again. He swallows and shrugs, “Uh, yeah, maybe.” He meets Louis’s eyes only briefly before checking his watch. “We should go soon,” he says turning to leave the kitchen. “I’ll grab you a jacket.”-Or, theWild Loveepilogue





	Never Slows Down

**Author's Note:**

> Hello (again) - Thank you for all of the support Wild Love has received in the past month or so. All of the comments and messages are a huge part of what inspired this epilogue/time stamp/part two explosion to happen. To everyone who read Wild Love, left a comment, sent me a message, suggested a potential scene for an epilogue, yelled at me about Zayn or shared the story with a friend: thank you endlessly. This one is for you. xo. 
> 
> The title is from Wild Love by James Bay

The security line at the San Francisco airport wraps out of the normally allotted space and into the atrium, additional red security belts secured along the floor to herd everyone in the right direction. There’s a subtle quiet over the gathered crowd, like everyone is following an unspoken rule of silence. 

  
“It’s the day  _ after _ Christmas,” Louis says with a voice that has been used minimal times since waking up an hour ago. “Why is everyone here?” He glances at Harry who is still sleep soft in his grey hoodie and jogging pants, his hair pushed up in at least four different directions. 

“It’s not Christmas anymore,” he says over a yawn. “Time to pack it up and go back to real life.”

The yawn is contagious and Louis catches it. “Okay, Scrooge. Better question is why are we here?”

Harry smiles, his eyes watering slightly as he rubs his lips together. “Because we have to fly all the way back across the country and it takes all day.”

“I like how you say that like we live in Australia.” Louis smiles at the thought. “That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? To live in Australia.”

Harry scrunches his nose as they move half an inch forward in line. “Kind of far, isn’t it? And the time difference would make me feel like I was living in a different universe than everyone else.”

Louis grins at Harry’s answer like this is something he’s actually taken time to think about. “What about for vacation? I was thinking we should go somewhere warm and sunny instead of back to New York.”

Harry hums and adjusts the bag on his shoulder. “I could go for a beach.”

Louis nods like this a serious agreement. “Great, let’s go to the help desk and just tell them to switch our flights. We’ll lay on the beach and go on yacht adventures, get super tan like all the other Australians.”

“I guess that’d be okay,” Harry says, trying not to smile so he ends up smirking.  

“I guess that’d be okay,” Louis mimics before pressing forward to kiss Harry’s lips when the smile finally breaks through. 

Louis is actually impressed they’re still able to smile at each other - even before sunrise. They’ve just spent three days in Seattle with his family followed by two days in San Francisco with Harry’s mom and sister. A hectic holiday, family time, and a birthday combined seemed destined for some kind of disaster but they’ve made it through unscathed. 

Seattle was a whirlwind of Louis wanting to see his family while also wanting to drag Harry around to every place that had ever meant something to him while growing up. They did all the usual tourist things - like fighting through the crowd at Pike Place Market, and going to the top of the Space Needle; then they did the things they just can’t do in New York - like driving around late at night to look at Christmas lights in the suburbs. They celebrated Louis’s birthday with his entire family the night before they left for San Francisco and Louis was full of the kind of happiness that pushes on your lungs, the kind that feels like you never want it to end. 

“What are you doing?”

Louis blinks as he realizes he’s staring at the ground and grinning like it’s done an impressive trick. “What?”

Harry tilts his head, “Why are you smiling like that?” He gestures with one hand to encompass the ground and Louis’s smile that’s still there. 

He clears his throat and drops the grin. “Was just thinking about this week. It was really good, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Harry says slowly, drawing the syllables to make it almost sound like a question.

Louis raises his eyebrows, “Do you not agree?”

He tilts his head again, “Is this a trick question?”

“What? No,” Louis says over a laugh. “Why would I do that?” Harry doesn’t say anything just straightens up and narrows his eyes as if to say,  _ stranger things have happened. _ “Well, it’s not,” Louis says. The line moves forward slightly. “I just really enjoyed it.”

Harry doesn’t seem fully pacified but a smile flutters in the twitch of his lips. “I did too.”

It had been something else entirely to watch Harry surprise his mom two days ago, on Christmas Eve, by showing up on her doorstep unannounced. Louis stood a few steps back to watch and when Anne started crying, Harry did by default and then Louis felt tears brimming in his eyes, his throat going thick. It all dissipated when Anne let go of hugging Harry to knock him on the head and call him a donut for pretending he was going to be in Seattle all week before rushing over to greet Louis. 

They celebrated Louis’s birthday over again with lunch at Harry’s favorite restaurant and a Christmas Eve party at Gemma’s house where they got entirely too drunk on red wine. They also made an unsuccessful attempt at blowing each other in the tiny guest bathroom during the party which just ended in no orgasms, a few bruises, and a line outside the door when they finally gave up and rejoined the party. Christmas Day was a lot quieter with just Harry’s mom for the morning and then Gemma bringing her husband over for a late lunch. She took the opportunity to announce her first pregnancy which dissolved everyone into more tears and this time Louis really couldn’t stop himself from joining in.

“You’re doing the weird smiley thing again,” Harry says, catching Louis for a second time. 

“Are you the happiness police now, or what?” Louis asks without breaking the smile. 

“I am,” Harry says with a nod. He tugs his bag up on his shoulder and grins, “And you’re under arrest.” He kisses Louis’s mouth before he can fully roll his eyes. 

Security drags on for another forty minutes after that and Louis gets the rare and esteemed privilege of watching Harry go from sleepy quiet to smiley quiet to grumpy quiet as they finally get through the line to post-security. The muffled crowd of pre-security has exploded on this side in a mess of chatter and swirls of people worse than Times Square on a summer night. 

“Why don’t you go grab something for breakfast?” Louis says, one hand on the small of Harry’s back. This far along in their friendship and relationship, he knows the best way to improve Harry’s mood tends to be food or coffee or both. “I’ll grab seats at the gate and meet you over there?”

Harry nods as a group of people brush against him and press him further into Louis. “Fuck,” he says quietly as he rights himself. “This is awful.”

Louis laughs, “I’ve had you out of Manhattan for too long, love. You’re getting that west coast attitude again.” Harry scrunches his eyebrows in his best imitation of a disgruntled cat and Louis just pushes him away. “Alright, grumps, go get some food.”

Their gate is perfectly positioned near the bathrooms and a magazine stand which hasn’t even opened yet - a testament to just how early Harry has booked their flight. He said he thought it would be a good idea to get home today to still have a full day tomorrow before they go back to work. At the time of booking, Louis agreed in theory but now he’s not so sure; especially not as he’s remembering SFO’s track record for delayed flights and the one time he sat on the runway for forty five minutes. The west coast version of a JFK nightmare. 

Still, he tries to keep his thoughts positive as he snags two seats near the window with a shared outlet to charge their phones. It takes some time to wrangle his charger from his bag and he’s just connected it to the wall when he sees Harry weaving through the other people at their gate, grumpy kitten face still intact. 

Louis half stands to take the two cups of coffee from him and then re-adjusts in his seat as Harry lets his bag fall from his shoulder and plops in the chair Louis saved for him. “Got bagels,” he says. He unzips his duffle to get the paper bag from where he’d stowed it in order to carry the coffees while Louis secures their cups in the holders and undoes the tops to let some of the steam out.

“Perfect,” Louis says. He’s eaten enough carbohydrates and sugar based foods in the past few days to become an Elf on the North Pole so he’s not going to stop himself now. 

Harry sorts through the bag on his lap and hands Louis his bagel without looking up. “They had those flavored schmear things but then when I got to the front of the line, they were out of the pear and blue cheese one.”

Louis blinks at him, “That sounds disgusting. How is it that popular they ran out?”

Harry takes out a marionberry schmear for Louis which makes Louis want to propose to him right there in the middle of the airport. Marionberry is the one he waxes poetic about everytime the bagel place by his apartment has it; Harry’s been on the receiving of a few of his berry-themed poems. 

“Yeah but that’s the one I wanted,” Harry says, drawing Louis’s attention back to the problem at hand.

Louis tilts his head, “You wanted to one that sounds like throw up?” Harry looks up and his eyes are actually narrowed like he’s mad. “Babe,” Louis says slowly like a question as Harry goes back to consulting the bag of food in his lap. 

“What?” Harry snaps when he looks up to find Louis still staring at him.  

“Baby,” Louis says, squinting, “Are you actually mad?” He tries to curl his lips but his smile still sneaks out, “About the cream cheese selection in the airport at six-thirty in the morning?”

“Yes,” Harry says, very seriously and not at all with the edge of a smirk. 

“Stop,” Louis says, still smiling, still waiting for Harry to join him. Harry starts to look away and Louis grabs his chin to stop him, leaning in and pressing their lips together, one hand keeping his bagel balanced in his lap. “Stop it,” he says between a second kiss. “Don’t be grumpy.” He kisses Harry quickly three times in a row until Harry actually smiles against his mouth then he sits back in his chair, satisfied. 

“You’re not supposed to do that,” Harry says, though he’s clearly pacified as he sets about opening his second choice shmear - blueberry and rosemary - and putting it on his bagel. 

“Do what?” Louis asks as he heaps the marionberry cream cheese in a pile and then smooths it out. 

“Kiss me in the middle of an argument.” He looks up when Louis doesn't say anything. “That’s what Julia said, remember?”

Louis smiles; of course he remembers.  It was only six months ago when they got up the guts to tell Julia they had decided to date each other for real after the experiment. They called her to schedule some time to catch up and instead she offered to put them through the paces of genuine couples therapy. While a polite “no” was on the tip of Louis’s tongue, Harry had said yeah, it sounded fun. 

“Let’s not tell her about the part where we broke up for two months,” Louis said on the way over to their session and Harry had ignored him with, “Personally, I’d love to hear Julia’s take on that predicament.” They still aren’t very good at talking about what happened those two months they were apart and they weren’t much better when Julia asked them. 

Sitting in her familiar office, it felt like someone was poking Louis’s heart with a stick when Harry said the only thing to really keep him going through March and April was an obligation to go to work. He told Julia he couldn’t really talk about the last night of the experiment without feeling like his stomach had been scooped out. Louis nearly lost his breath as he reached out to hold Harry’s hand, his heart crumbling. 

Julia watched the motion with narrowed eyes but Louis wasn’t just putting on a show for therapy; sometimes touching Harry is the only thing that makes him feel like he’s not on the verge of falling apart. Harry, for his part, looked physically pained when Louis explained his emotional rollercoaster of their two months apart - the confusion, anger, guilt, sadness, seemingly  irreparable heartbreak. 

In the end, Julia said what they’d thought all along - that it happened the way it was supposed to. They needed to be one-hundred percent ready to commit and not hold anything back and maybe the time apart is what cemented that. (The reassurance didn’t stop them from leaving her office and going right to Louis’s apartment where they laid on his bed with every part of their bodies touching or intertwined, staring at each other in the silence.)

If Julia could tell she hit a nerve, she didn’t say but wrapped the session up with one of her classic softball questions about the things they fought over. Considering it was June and they were still in the honeymoon period of a post-breakup, it was all terribly surface material: Harry leaving used tea bags on the counter, Louis leaving his shoes in the middle of the doorway which left clumsier people (Harry) at risk of eating shit sometimes (multiple times). They’d both been laughing about it when Harry mentioned how Louis would interrupt him in the middle of bickering with a kiss and Julia had raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow in an eerily familiar way. 

“Remember what she said?” Harry prompts again now in the airport, noting the spacey way Louis has stopped paying attention. 

“She said it was fine,” Louis says. “Just not if we were having a genuine disagreement about something important.” She’d also said not to use sex as a block for talking about bigger issues and Louis had nearly broken out in hives hoping they wouldn’t ever have bigger issues to try and block. 

“Exactly,” Harry says like Louis has just proved his point. “Keep those lips to yourself, Tomlinson.”

“Are you saying the bagel schmear is an important and genuine disagreement?”

Harry presses his lips together, “Perhaps.”

“Should we schedule a Julia session? Work it out with a mediator?”

Harry tries not to smile but he’s really not good at it and his dimple curves in anyway. “Yes.”

“Noted,” Louis says as he licks some marionberry off his thumb. “I’ll get right on that when we get back.”

“I love you,” Harry says conversationally as he takes a bite of his bagel and looks at Louis while he chews. 

Someday, maybe, Louis won’t feel those words like fireworks in his chest but maybe not. “Love you,” he says back just as easy. Harry presses forward to kiss him then, cream cheese smudged on their lips.

To be fair, their fights have escalated slightly from that June session with Julia and not about bagel shmear. Now most of their frustrations lie in busy schedules beyond their control or taking their stress out on each other with biting remarks they usually regret. 

To date, their biggest fight was late summer and Louis volunteering for a trip to Chicago which would mean missing Harry’s new, interactive installation at a gallery in Chelsea. Harry’s, “I just thought my  _ boyfriend  _ would want to support me,” and Louis’s, “You could support me instead of guilt tripping me,” had crashed together in a symphony and lead to a parade of insults and jabs resulting in Louis storming out of Harry’s apartment. 

The way it worked out, Louis finished in Chicago earlier than anticipated and then bought an exorbitantly priced flight back to New York for that same day. En route, he played out a scene where he would appear at the opening in dramatic display and make Harry cry out of pure joy but his heart knew Harry better than that. Instead, he showed up at Harry’s apartment with red roses from the airport kiosk and a rumpled suit. Harry is usually the one to get choked with emotion first but Louis led the way that night as he rambled an apology that got caught somewhere in Harry’s apology until they were both a mess of telling each other how stupid they are, how much they love each other, how they can’t breathe right when they’re fighting. 

They’re just good for each other, is the thing. Zayn said it on one of the first nights they were all out together again - some dive bar near NYU. Niall and Harry were off somewhere on the premise of getting drinks while Louis and Zayn stayed at the table to keep their place. Harry got back first, slipping into the booth on Louis’s side with two drinks and a smile. Louis held his face with both hands when he kissed him, and their drinks sloshed out in their laps as Harry’s grip went a bit too lax. They laughed about it as Harry put the drinks on a solid surface and then offered to suck the alcohol from Louis’s jeans in an overly seductive way that made them both laugh and kiss again, oblivious to Zayn staring from across the table. 

“I’ve never seen either of you this happy,” Zayn said when they finally noticed him. “Genuinely happy.” Louis didn’t know if it was a compliment but he glanced at Harry’s smile and lost his train of thought completely. “It’s hard to believe you spent so long as only friends when now it’s obvious how good you are together. Good for each other.”

“You’re good for me, baby,” Harry said when he looked at Louis, drunk eyes and red lips. “Like eating a banana or taking a vitamin.”

Louis was too intoxicated to do much more than kiss him again, Zayn’s words tucking themselves in the back of his mind for later. That night, in the darkness of Harry’s lofted bed, he pressed the words to Harry’s skin. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart,” he whispered against his stomach, “Everything I’ll ever need,” he said right against his ear as he felt him shiver. 

They just get each other in the way Louis hasn’t found with many other people - romantically or in general. They don’t always agree, they argue and get annoyed with each other but the beginning and ending of everything is the way they love each other fills them up and overruns, makes them stay up late talking about nothing and get up early just to have an extra moment with each other. Even on the days when Harry simply breathing annoys Louis he never wants to go too far away, never wants to remember what it’s like to miss Harry like a knife pressed on his heart.

Good for each other like eating a banana or taking a vitamin, Louis thinks when they get on the plane at SFO a while later. Good for each other like Louis letting Harry have the window seat without question, like Harry pulling two pairs of headphones from his bag because Louis always loses his. Good for each other like holding hands as the plane takes off; good for each other like it will never make sense any other way than this. 

*

They get into JFK at nearly five, after a runway delay Louis definitely predicted. It’s raining when the plane touches down and Louis lets Harry sleep against the window as it taxis to the gate. His hood is up and his lips parted as his eyelashes flutter with unconscious recognition of being watched. Louis is still figuring out what it means to be in love but volunteering to sit on landed plane and watch his boyfriend sleep seems like it could be somewhere on the list. 

When the cabin lights flicker on and Harry still doesn’t move, Louis leans over to run his fingers through his hair and kiss his forehead. “We’re here,” he says when Harry makes a low sound of protest. “Time to go home.” 

They get a cab out front of the airport and take it to Louis’s apartment, Harry piling his bags inside the front door like they belong. “Do you want to go out for dinner?” He asks.

“Let’s order in Thai,” Louis says, stepping on the backs of his shoes to get them off. “With crab wontons.”

Harry’s smile is crooked as he crosses the floor, his eyes mischievous. He slips his hands around Louis and pulls him in close, his face pressing to Louis’s neck. Louis’s hands fall to his hips automatically, fingertips under the hem of his hoodie. 

“What’s this about?” Harry inhales deeply and Louis laughs, curving his hands further under Harry’s clothes to press against his warm skin. “Did you just smell me? I’m pretty sure I smell like airplane and stale air.”

“So do I,” Harry says and then he presses his lips to Louis’s neck. He does it again, and then once more and Louis’s skin erupts in goosebumps. 

“Technically that means we should shower,” Louis says as the lips turn to teeth and Harry bites at the muscle of his neck. “Ouch, hey,” he says, jerking away and pulling Harry’s head up. “When did you become a vampire?”

Harry’s smile is just a blur as he crowds into Louis with a burning kiss that leaves Louis clutching at his hips again, Harry’s teeth dragging against his lips. He lets himself sink into it like a warm bath - Harry’s sweet lips and wicked tongue, soft sounds pressed like secrets. They’ve had to keep things extraordinarily PG-rated over the last week or so - a few handjobs under the covers and moans bitten into shoulders like high schoolers at summer camp. Now, to have Harry’s mouth in the wide expanse of an empty apartment, is too good to stop.

Louis’s hands can’t make up their mind as he tugs Harry closer then pushes his hands under the waistband of his sweats, pressing low on the curve of his ass. “We should really, really shower,” Louis whispers in the breath between kisses even as he rolls Harry’s hips against his. He’s really saying it out of common respect to hygiene so he doesn’t exactly expect Harry to straighten up and pull away so quickly

“Fine,” he says, tugging his sweatshirt over his head and letting it drop to the floor. “We can shower.” He pulls his t-shirt off next and Louis slips his hands out of Harry’s pants to hold the curve of his hips in slight confusion. He can’t ever decide on his favorite part of Harry’s body but the curve of his hips is always near the top of the list. 

“Okay?” Louis says slowly, more of a question than an agreeance. 

“Then, you should fuck me,” Harry says, sweet as anything. “Because that’s what I asked Santa to get me for Christmas and he didn’t pull through.”

Louis’s lips twitch and he’s not in the business of denying himself the extravagant pleasure of being the one to fuck Harry but he has to ask, “You asked Santa to fuck you?” Harry’s smirk drops and he stares at Louis flatly. He takes two steps back and puts his hands on his hips. Louis can’t help his smile, “Is that something we need to discuss, or…?” 

The look on Harry’s face looks like he’s going to stomp his foot but he must refrain as he turns on his heel and starts walking away.  “If you’re gonna be like that, fine,” he says airly. “I’ll shower alone.” He pauses at the edge of the room to look over his shoulder like this is a soap opera, “And then I’ll fuck myself instead.” 

In an alternate world, Louis is able to stand there and shrug like he’s not bothered. But then Harry walks away and starts shimmying his pants off his hips and Louis can’t even pretend; he takes off at a full on sprint, nearly slipping on the wood floor in the process. 

They actually do manage to  _ shower  _ in the shower, hands in each others hair with wads of shampoo as they kiss, bitter suds getting in their mouths when they try to rinse without separating. Somehow they laugh about it anyway and Louis feels like that emoji with hearts for eyes. It nothing new; Harry has made him feel like that emoji nearly everyday for the last seven months and that’s nothing to say of the four years prior to that.

Louis knicks the bottle of body wash before Harry can grab it and pours some in his hands, rubbing them together to create a foam. Harry watches from just under the water, head tilted in curiosity. When Louis reaches out for him he puts his hands up like he’s going to stop him but Louis shakes his head. “No, let me.”

Harry drops his hands slowly and then doesn’t flinch as Louis starts smudging the wash against his skin, circling his shoulders and down his arms, light kisses pressed against his neck. Harry lets him go, his head tilting to the side and then falling back as Louis works down the front of his body, his lips mostly leading the way of his hands. If it were a potential career path, Louis would spend most of his time with his mouth on Harry, tracing the bumps in his ribs and curves of his belly with his lips. 

He soaps Harry until there’s nowhere left to kiss that won’t taste sharp with bubbles and then he pushes him gently back under the water. Harry gasps for air as he opens his eyes. Louis rolls his lip under his teeth  as Harry runs his hands over his skin to wash off the soap. When it’s gone, he just stands there under the spray looking like the rain-drenched lead in a romantic comedy. “Do I get to do you now?” He asks, reaching for the soap where Louis has left it on the ledge. 

Louis’s eyebrows flicker at the possibility of Harry’s hands and then he shakes his head. He comes under the spray to kiss Harry and turn off the shower all at once. “Think we’re probably clean enough,” he says as Harry’s hands slip trying to grab onto him.

They make it out of the shower mostly unscathed though Harry does stub his toe on the doorway of the bathroom and then jumps around yelling, “Fuck,” for a good thirty seconds as Louis tries to be sympathetic while trying not to laugh. “I can kiss it better,” he says when Harry is starting to settle, kicking his foot sporadically like that will fix things. 

“We’re not getting into your feet thing again.”

Louis rolls his eyes as he grabs Harry’s wrists to pull him in. “Shut up, you.” Harry smiles against his mouth when they kiss.

They have sex on the couch because it’s the first flat surface they get to, Louis pushing Harry backwards over the armrest and then crawling after him. They have a bottle of lube and a condom in the drawer of the coffee table because they think it’s funny - although it also proves to be useful. 

It all goes pretty fast once they start, Harry hardly letting Louis open him with his fingers before he’s slapping his hand away and saying he’s ready. Louis holds Harry’s hand down after the first slap and keeps going with his fingers because he refuses for Harry to be uncomfortable. Much to Harry’s happiness, though, it only takes a minute more before Louis gets impatient too and let’s Harry have his way. They’re both far too loud and Louis is sure it’s because they’re allowed to be, no judgy family members to overhear their whispered words and filthy sounds. They collapse in a mess when they finish, hair still wet from their shower as they try to catch their breath. 

“What was that you said about crab wontons earlier?” Harry asks when it goes quiet. “Do you still want to do that? Because I do.”

Louis laughs and kisses over Harry’s heart since it’s the closest part of him he can reach with minimal effort. “I still do, babe.”

Harry scratches his fingers through Louis’s wet hair, his stomach ballooning with his breath. “You know what would have been a really good idea?” 

Louis lifts his head to look at him. “What?”

“To order before we had sex so then it would be here already.”

“Should have thought of that one before you asked me to fuck you like Santa, sweetheart.”

Harry sits up so fast, Louis has to hold onto the back of the couch for balance before he gets knocked off. “That is not what I said,” Harry says defiantly. Louis laughs at his offended face. “I meant it like you were on my Christmas list -” Harry lays back down dramatically as he mumbles, “Forget it.”

Louis stops his laughter by biting his lip. “You know I’m actually never going to forget it, right?” Harry covers his face with his hands and groans as Louis gets off of him to find his phone to order dinner. 

He sits on the couch while he calls and Harry must forgive him for the Santa nonsense because he clings to his back and sucks a mark on his neck while Louis tries to have a civil conversation with the restaurant. As soon as he hangs up, he tackles Harry back against the couch and they fit in one more round of orgasms before a nice girl named Meghan brings their pad-thai and crab wontons to the door. 

*

Jet lag is a bitch even after just a week on the west coast so they let themselves sleep in late the next morning, curled tight around each other like two commas in Louis’s bed. By the time Louis decides to get up, the apartment is full of cold December light and Harry is snoring lightly. 

Louis likes to find new ways to fall in love with Harry and his snoring continues to be one of the many. (The exception to the rule, of course, was in October when Harry had a terrible cold and said sleeping next to Louis was the only way he’d feel better. He even smiled when he said it and Louis was helpless to say anything but, “Okay,”. The snoring that night, however, was beyond anything Louis has ever witnessed out of a human and he nearly set a pillow on top of Harry’s face to shut him up before remembering that would be attempted murder. He ended up working from home the next day and letting Harry wallow in his bed with unlimited hot soup, tea and cuddles. Louis got karma’s kiss anyway, though; he ended up with the same cold three days later, germs caught from kissing Harry while he was contagious.)

Still, this morning, Harry’s snores are snuffles and sit under the cute variety. Louis leaves him sleeping as he crawls out of bed as stealthily as he can manage. It doesn’t work all that well considering the way the sheets are tangled around them but Harry just makes a low groan of disapproval at being jostled without opening his eyes. 

Louis pulls on a pair of sweats without thinking about whose they might be and a sweatshirt that is definitely Harry’s. They’ve never formally brought things over to keep at each other’s apartments but it’s been a slow accumulation over time; sweatshirts stolen on cool mornings, work trousers shed in favor of something warm. Louis has far too many pairs of fuzzy socks now and only knows one person who enjoys them unironically. Even pairs of underwear have switched places when they stay for long weekends at each other’s places. 

More than clothes have worked their way into new locations, they’ve found - Harry has an extra inhaler in Louis’s nightstand and Louis left a spare bottle of allergy meds in Harry’s cabinet back in July when he was constantly on the edge of sneezing. They have two toothbrushes each and Louis keeps shampoo at Harry’s because Harry’s curl shampoo wreaks havoc on his hair. To be fair, Harry has an expensive bottle of curl control in Louis’s shower because Louis’s shampoo does nothing for him except add volume which is hysterical to see but not Harry’s preferred style. 

As Louis stretches and walks to the kitchen, he tries to remember the last night he spent alone while Harry was in the same city. His first thought goes to when he was sick after catching Harry’s cold but that’s not true - Harry still stayed over after announcing he was probably immune since he had it first. (Louis still isn’t so sure about that.) Even in November when Harry flew to LA on business and then got a red-eye flight home, he still took a cab from JFK straight to Louis’s apartment and crawled into bed with him. It just doesn’t make them happy to be apart so they don’t do it. It’s pretty simple in the scheme of things even if Louis pauses briefly over the thought this morning.

He doesn’t give himself too long to linger on it because he opens the refrigerator to find painstakingly empty shelves.The week old memory of scooping everything in the garbage, convinced it wouldn’t keep comes rushing back. He considers ordering something for breakfast delivery before he imagines the look on Harry’s face if he brings him coffee and a scone in bed. He’s not even ashamed to admit the mere idea of Harry’s smile is enough to motivate him to put some shoes on and sneak quietly into the hallway.

Outside is miserable; no snow yet but only because the below freezing temperatures won’t let it happen. He grabs a few necessities from the corner store since it’s near the bakery anyway and then hurries back to his apartment because December twenty-seventh in New York is no joke weather-wise. 

*

For all Louis’s anticipation of Harry’s sleepy smile, he’s faced with a fully dressed Harry standing in the kitchen, a fresh cup of coffee near his elbow as he reads one of the books Louis’s mom got him for Christmas.  “Hey, babe.” He folds the corner of the page he’s on and lets it close. “Thought you might have gone in to work.”

“I took the day off,” Louis says as he comes closer, the tip of his nose suddenly burning as it defrosts in the warm apartment. “We’ve definitely discussed this.”

“Yeah but sometimes you cheat and work on your day off,” Harry says knowingly just before he kisses Louis. “Ah, fuck, your lips are freezing,” he says and then kisses him again. “What’d you bring me?”

“Good morning,” he says pointedly as he sets his grocery bag on the counter and narrows his eyes. “What makes you think I brought you anything?”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Because you always bring me something.”

That’s a fair statement so Louis doesn’t argue. He takes out the two scones from the bakery and waves them around casually. “You were supposed to be in bed and then I was going to bring you a scone and coffee.”

Harry’s face goes all soft the way it sometimes does when he looks at Louis. “I can get back in bed, if that’ll help?”

Louis rolls his eyes. He takes his eggs and milk to the fridge and leaves a kiss on Harry’s jaw in passing. “If you want to really win my heart, can you make me a cup of coffee?”

“Yes,” Harry says, though he’s currently busy poking his head in the grocery bag to see what else Louis bought. He pulls out a bag of pretzel twists with a small cheer. “We were out of these,” he says as he puts them in the cupboard.

“We?” Louis asks lightly, leaning against the counter. 

Harry smiles as he gets a mug and puts it under the coffee maker, slipping a pod in the top. “You were out of them,” he says. “I’m the one who eats them, though.” He comes in close to Louis to kiss him, one hand along his neck. “Good morning, by the way.”

“What are you doing today?” Louis asks, wrapping Harry up in his arms and kissing the corner of his mouth. They don’t get these slow mornings too often but they like to savor when they come around; a chance to take their time and stand in the kitchen in broad daylight, make boring plans and stare at each other.

“Should probably do laundry,” he says, closing his eyes as Louis scratches through his hair. It’s dried a bit funny overnight so he works through a few of the tangles; Harry is as receptive as a lazy cat. “Wanna read a little more of my book so I can text your mom and say I love it and mean it.”

“Suck up,” Louis says, smiling. 

“Possibly.” Harry smirks and kisses him and it’s very, very close to perfect. 

*

They have their scones and coffee on the couch and catch up on the Westworld premiere episode they missed while they were gone. Louis mostly scrolls through things on his phone while it plays because he doesn’t really remember what happened in the last season and Harry dozes off after he eats his scone. It’s more the principle of being able to say they’ve seen it that matters. They’ve discussed it. 

“I should unpack,” Louis says when the show ends and Harry wakes up again, pretending like he’s been watching the whole time. Their suitcases are still sitting in the corner from last night and Louis feels like he’s being judged by them.

Harry yawns and follows his gaze. “I should too.” He glances at Louis, “Actually, if you let me use your fancy laundry soap, I can run a couple of loads of laundry here. I’ll do some of yours with it.”

After one stray invitation for Harry to do his laundry at Louis’s apartment  - mostly because Louis was desperate to see him after a long work trip - Harry made a habit out of it. Louis has never minded him showing up with his laundry basket propped on his hip and he has definitely never been disappointed by Harry doing part of his laundry for him.  

“The soap is not that fancy,” Louis points out. “It’s just scent free.”

“It’s expensive, which makes it fancy,” Harry says. “I would know, I tried to buy you more after I did my last round.”

“That’s sweet,” Louis says, scrunching his nose. “Some boys get their boyfriends flowers, mine attempts to get me laundry detergent.”

“Modern romance, this is,” Harry says as he adjusts their shared blanket to get closer to Louis and rest his head on his shoulder.

“You’re nuts if you think I’m just going to lay here while you do laundry, by the way.” Louis smiles when Harry looks over to protest, “I’m definitely helping.” He kisses Harry’s nose and then his forehead. “It’ll be our one productive thing for the day and then more laying down.”

*

Louis heaves his suitcase onto his bed while Harry unzips his in the foyer and starts sorting things out with a practiced ease, hardly looking up as he hums some nameless tune. Louis barely has his bag unzipped when there’s a quiet snuffled laugh behind him and the humming goes quiet. “What?” He asks without looking up.

“I just found your Christmas gift,” Harry says sweetly, a smile coloring his words. 

Louis turns, confused. Harry has already gone above and beyond in gift giving while they were in San Francisco - a gift card for a couple’s spa date for Louis’s birthday and tickets to Mean Girls on broadway for Christmas. Louis hadn’t done too badly in the gifting department either - Harry had actually yelled when he opened Louis’s gift of a couple’s cooking and wine pairing class in Tribeca. 

“You already got me a gift,” he says even as he sees Harry holding a small package in his hands. It’s wrapped in the same paper as Louis’s actual Christmas gift though scrunched from being in his suitcase. “Two gifts actually.”

“This was one where,” Harry pushes out his lips, “I wasn’t sure when to give it to you.”

Louis raises an eyebrow as Harry comes over to him. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s not exactly a gift for casual company.”

Louis laughs this time, holding out his hand. “You’ve got me curious now.” Harry smiles as he hands over the package, a small smile on his lips. “Thank you,” Louis says. He kisses Harry once, “I love it.”

“You haven’t opened it,” Harry says in the spectacularly monotone way he has of making Louis laugh. 

“I preemptively love it,” Louis says. 

Harry rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Open it, please.” Just for that, Louis goes ridiculously slow as he opens it, peeling off the tape like he’s going to save it for later. “Louis,” Harry borderline whines.

Louis laughs again as he folds the wrapping back. The first thing to fall out is soft and lacy, slips right out onto the floor. He doesn’t even process the lace fully because he’s left holding a pair of adjustable leather wrist cuffs still wrapped in the plastic casing. 

“It’s a gift for both of us, I guess,” Harry says, smiling at Louis’s dumbfounded expression. They’ve done some haphazard bondage before - using ties and a pair of bandanas at Harry’s place - but neither one of them had actual cuffs. “Do you like it?” Harry asks, the second thing he’s said with no response from Louis yet.

Louis’s mind comes back from imagining at least twelve different ways to use the cuffs  _ tonight  _ and he laughs. “Yes, baby. Yes.” He kisses Harry while still holding the cuffs, stepping closer and pausing when his toe gets caught in lacy thing on the ground.

Harry looks down when Louis does and ducks down to pick up the black material. “These are technically for me,” he says, straightening and holding up a pair of lace booty shorts. They look delicate in his hands, the lace pressed in roses. “But I thought you might like to see them first.”

Louis bites his lip and wants to laugh at how a little lace and leather has his cock stirring already. “Love,” he says with an appreciative nod. He meets Harry’s eyes, “Love you.” Harry kisses him filthy, the lace crumpling between them as he comes in close. 

Louis pulls back first, “Can’t quite believe you brought these to your mom’s house, though.” He pauses and tilts his head, “Brought them to  _ my  _ mom’s house too, yeah?”

Harry half smiles and shrugs, “Would you rather of had me give them to you at your mom’s house?”

Louis tries to imagine being handcuffed to the bed in the converted guest room at his mom’s house and grimaces. “Probably not. I like that you brought them anyway. Just in case you could slip it in to casual family gift giving,” he smiles. “Don’t mind me exposing our sex life,” he says in a poor imitation of Harry’s drawl. 

“I can un-gift them, you know.” 

Louis laughs and kisses Harry again.  “You would never. Bet your half hard right now just seeing me holding them.”

Harry tries to hide his smile as he looks away. “No.”

Louis kisses the side of his jaw and nearly heads for his neck before he pauses. “I actually have something for you, too.”

“Hm?” Harry asks, opening his eyes and straightening the curve of his neck. “What?”

Louis nods slowly as he tries to remember where he put the package. “I have something for you that kind of, fittingly, goes with this stuff.” He tosses the cuffs on his bed and heads for his closet. 

“You just gave me shit for bringing x-rated gifts to Christmas and you did the same thing?” Harry asks, following after Louis with the lace briefs still in his hands.

“Not quite,” Louis says without looking back. “I wasn’t sure when to give this to you but it sure as fuck didn’t cross my mind to bring it to your mom’s house.” He starts opening the plastic bins along the top of his closet, trying to remember the right hiding spot. 

“Stop saying that,” Harry says, “You’re making it sound creepy.”

Louis pauses his search. “It’s not creepy,” he says, turning. He kisses Harry quick and goes back to looking. “It’s hot, love. You wanted to get handcuffed to the bed you lost your virginity in, I get it.”

“More like I wanted to handcuff you to the bed where I used to have fantasies of riding someone when they couldn’t touch me.”

This time Louis knocks his head on the shelf as he turns. “You what?” He thinks he might just forget his gift altogether. “That was your teenage fantasy?” His dick is definitely stirring now.

Harry has his arms folded over his chest and a smirk on his mouth. “No but clearly you’re into it.”

Louis is not ashamed as he reaches for him with both hands. “Uh, yeah, definitely.”

Harry dances out of his grasp. “I want my present first.”

Louis has his hands lifted in the air and he groans. “You’re insufferable.”

“You like it,” Harry says, smirking again. 

“Love it, technically,” he says, winking as he goes back to searching. He knows he put the package up here but it’s been a couple months since it arrived. Harry had been making dinner when Louis walked in holding the package from the mailroom so he tried to hide it quickly, and blindly throwing it upwards in the closet seemed like a good idea at the time. 

“You don’t actually have anything for me do you?” Harry asks after a quiet moment. “It’s okay, I’m not expecting something-,” 

Louis grasps the thick bubbled envelope at just the right moment and turns to stop Harry’s babbling.

“Oh,” Harry says, blinking owlishly. “You did have something.”

Louis smirks, “Wasn’t just being nice, babe.” He holds the package out for Harry to take. “Wrapping could have been better, probably.”

“Probably,” Harry agrees because he’s the kind of person who likes things to be neatly wrapped. 

“Just open it, please.”

Opening the package is easier said than done considering it was packaged by a factory. They go back and forth trying to tear the glue off the edges and Harry is the one who finally gets it with his teeth. Louis has ended up with the lace shorts so as Harry tears off the edge of the envelope, he holds them up to look at them closer, already imagining the way they’ll cut just over the curve of Harry’s ass. It’s not his first pair by any means and he casually wears his other pairs under his jeans - usually giving Louis an impromptu heart attack each time he reveals he has them on.

“What is it?” Harry asks as he reaches inside the envelope. 

Louis doesn’t bother with an answer since Harry hasn’t even gotten it out of the bubble wrap. He doubts he’ll have to explain it when Harry actually sees it but, if he must, he’ll oblige. 

“Oh fuck,” Harry says, dropping the envelope and holding only the package. 

“Thought we deserved a new one,” Louis says as Harry looks at the vibrator with wide eyes. 

“This is like…,” He scrunches his lips, “Next fucking level.”

Louis laughs. Where the vibrator Harry discovered all those months ago at the ski lodge is a slim vibrator, Louis thought they should up the ante with a pink wand with different sized beads from top to bottom. Harry is just blinking at it, his thumb turning white where he’s pressing it into the plastic. “You like it?”

“Love,” Harry says looking up. “Do you think it has to be sanitized before I use it?”

It’s such a reasonable question in the moment Louis bursts out laughing, the black lace underwear scrunching in his hand. “Probably. Are you in a rush?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry says as he flips the package, eyes scanning for any kind of instructions. “I have a plan.”

Louis should be used to the way his stomach flips at Harry’s words but it’s still a delicious sizzle now. “A plan?” In the past, Harry’s plans have ranged from blindfolds to flavored lube to  ice cubes to a number of other things - in the height of August, his plan had also included Nutella. 

“I’m just gonna-,” he cuts himself off as he grabs the lacy underwear back then spins and heads for the bathroom. Louis tries to follow but gets stopped by the door closing in his face.

“Hey,” he says, a bit put off. He knocks and waits for Harry to open it a crack. When he does, all he can see is the tip of Harry’s nose as he refuses to open it any further. “I know I said it’s for you but if you’re gonna use it, I kind of want to be there.”

Harry opens the door so Louis can see his smile. “I am gonna use it,” he says. “But I have to sanitize it first which really isn’t that sexy so we’re pretending this part isn’t happening.” He shuts the door again and Louis finds himself laughing. 

After a moment he decides to be helpful so, rather than pacing outside the bathroom door, he finishes what they had barely started, sorting laundry and unpacking his bag. He does Harry’s next, adding his clothes to the already made piles. 

He’s not sure why they wonder how their clothes get mixed together when they regularly shove them all together like this. It doesn’t help Louis is usually lazy when the clothes come out of the dryer and barely glances as he folds some into Harry’s pile and others to his own. It would be easier if they just kept all their clothes in one place and then when he was missing his favorite sweater, he’d just look in Harry’s drawer and find it.

The thought makes him pause like it did this morning, finger hovering over the start button on the washing machine. Having their clothes in one place would mean a shared dresser, a shared room. Is that so much to be curious about considering so much of their lives are already shared with each other? He presses the button and the washer starts with a low rumble as he lets his mind wander to the key he gave to Harry six months ago, Harry’s key already hooked on his key ring. Maybe they don’t need four keys between them, maybe two will do. 

His train of thought is cut off by the sharp click of the bathroom door opening. Quickly, he rounds the corner to see if Harry has finished his sanitizing duties. It would seem he has as he finds Harry standing in the doorway, naked except for the new lace briefs he gifted Louis, his legs crossed at his ankles. Arguably, Louis likes this presentation better than the wrapped version. 

“Hi,” Louis says, his eyes skirting over Harry’s skin in a path he’s memorized. He knows each part of Harry’s body intimately by now, even the curve behind his knees and soft skin of his ankles. His eyes pause when he sees Harry is holding the new vibrator, tapping the smallest bead against his thigh. “You’re beautiful.”

Louis tries his best to tell Harry once a day how pretty he is in case Harry goes blind and forgets. It never gets old, Harry’s embarrassed eye roll or smirk as he looks away. Now, he just pops his hip with a sly smile. “You think?”

As if Louis could think differently. He doesn’t bother with words, coming right up to Harry and smoothing his hands back around his hips to settle low on his back, the edge of the lace against his fingertips. “Yes.”

He kisses Harry then, slow and searching. Harry opens his mouth, easy for it, lets Louis press his tongue inside and drag over the curved edges of his teeth. Louis pulls him in close as his fingers travel the length of his back. Harry makes a quiet sound and tosses his head back when Louis cups his ass over the top of the lace. He slots his thumbs under the bottom edge and presses, feels Harry hardening against his hip. 

“Don’t ruin my plan,” Harry says, already a bit breathless.

“What’s that?” Louis asks, dragging his mouth over Harry’s neck. He sees where he got him good the night before, a purpling mark he bites now just to make Harry hiss.

Harry pushes him back with two hands and Louis complies with the direction, stepping back until he falls against the bed. He scoots up toward the pillows and his hand grasps the handcuff package in the process, by accident more than anything. He goes to toss it to the side but Harry catches his wrist and takes the cuffs from Louis with half a smile.

Louis raises his eyebrows then tugs his sweatshirt over his head, his t-shirt wrapped up with it. “What’s up, baby?” He asks, laying back on the pillows. 

Harry carefully sets the vibrator on Louis’s stomach, and undoes the packaging on the cuffs. Louis watches him with heavy eyes, the prospect of whatever is coming next sending him to a midway kind of nirvana. Harry lays forward when he gets the cuffs undone, kisses Louis and then sits up, perched on his hips. 

“Wanna use these on you,” he says, indicating the wrist cuffs, “And use that on me,” he says with a glance at the vibrator. “Yeah?”

Louis smiles, “Uh, fuck yeah.” 

Harry laughs. “Cool.”

Louis is patient while Harry figures out how to use the cuffs and then takes one of Louis’s wrists and attaches it to the railing of the headboard. He’s so careful, kissing the delicate skin over Louis’s pulse and then sticking his finger in the inner ring to make sure it’s not too tight. His concentration is nothing short of endearing as he glances at Louis with a small smile. Before he can grab Louis’s left wrist, he tugs Harry down by the back of his neck to kiss him, biting his lip. 

“This is unbearably hot,” he whispers, kissing Harry again. “Just so you know.”

Harry smiles, clearly pleased as he snatches Louis’s other wrist and puts it over his head with the first. The second the snap goes into place, Louis feels fire licking his ribs and curling in his stomach. He feels like he’s at Harry’s mercy and there’s no one else he’d quite rather be in this position with. 

Harry drops quick kisses along his chest and then he’s off the bed, shuffling through the nightstand before he comes back. Louis cranes his neck to watch but the level of the pillows mostly leaves him staring at Harry’s crotch, studying where his cock is starting to press against the lace underwear as he hardens. There’s already a wet spot and Louis’s mouth honest to god waters as he closes his eyes. Harry must catch Louis staring because he makes a delicate show of taking off the briefs, edging them over his hips and to the ground before crawling back on the bed naked, resting on the cradle of Louis’s hips. 

Harry is something else like this, Louis thinks; when he’s got a plan. First, he draws the vibrator over Louis’s lips like lipstick and Louis makes him smirk when he opens his mouth and lets the vibrator slip inside, wetting it with his tongue.  “Fuck,” Harry says and this is what Louis loves most about the plans; beating Harry at the his own game. Harry pulls the vibrator back with a slick pop and Louis adjusts his hips to get Harry to fall forward slightly. Even without his hands, he can get Harry where he wants him. Harry presses his ass back against Louis’s cock to still him and Louis groans, the fabric of his sweatpants suddenly far too thick for this. Harry grins, the upper hand is his again. 

Slowly, Harry dribbles lube over the toy and Louis’s eyes flicker between his face and the crease in his eyebrows to the bead of precome on his cock, slipping over the edge and falling in a way that makes Louis’s mouth go dry. He can’t wait to see Harry fall apart from this angle.

Louis tries not to get too excited, thinking Harry still has to finger himself before he starts with the toy, the main event. Instead Harry just reaches behind himself with the smallest end first, one hand bracing on Louis’s ribs, his knees bearing the weight on either side of Louis’s hips. “Harry,” Louis says, the edge of worry in his voice. 

Harry catches it and shakes his head. “Fingered myself during the sanitation process.”

Louis’s laughter bursts when Harry grins and this, he thinks, is the reason he’s so wildly in love with his best friend. The fact they’re in this position and still laughing at each other, eyes shining when they meet. 

Harry’s smile slowly drops and Louis realizes he’s pushing the toy inside himself where he can’t see. The flames in his belly turn to a roar and he clenches his stomach before they overtake him. He watches Harry’s face as his jaw drops, his eyes rolling back and then closing. The thing, the worst part, is Louis doesn’t even think Harry is acting or putting on a show. When they’re together like this, Harry lets the purest forms of pleasure rush over him and Louis gets drunk off watching it happen. 

Harry’s arm bends slowly and then he pauses, his abs rigid. Louis tugs on his restraints even if it doesn’t do anything, it’s instinctual more than anything. “Turn around, darling,” he says, surprised to find his voice dusty. He licks his lips, “Let me see.”

Harry turns like an uncoordinated calf but he gets there eventually, the toy halfway inside him, lube slipping down to make his finger shiny. “Fuck.” Louis drags the word lowly as he bends his legs so Harry can grasp his knee with his free hand.

It’s absolutely filthy to watch Harry; the slow way he presses the toy in, the way his hole stretches to take it. It’s a slow press and drag back to the point where Louis’s heart is shaking instead of beating, his cock uncomfortable against the fabric of his pants. The sounds Harry makes are no help, the muscles in his shoulders pressing with each adjustment enough to make Louis sweat. 

He feels helpless to just watch though he knows this is what Harry wants, to make Louis watch him tease. The thing is Louis knows how to edge Harry better than Harry knows how to do it to himself and the way Harry is headed, he’s about to burst at the seams. Louis knows his tells, the whining followed by the soft gasps as he gets to the second biggest bead on the wand. 

“How you doing, love?” He asks though he’s pretty sure it’s Harry who should be asking him considering he’s the one with his wrists pinned over his head. It’s not as if being restrained and watching his boyfriend fuck himself on a pink vibrator is any kind of hardship, though. “You gonna turn this thing on or what?”

Harry shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else, his forehead resting on Louis’s knee as he catches his breath, his ass startlingly close to Louis’s face. He curves his neck to see if he can reach with his tongue but it’s a trick of the eye; he still can’t. “Louis,” Harry rasps as he lifts his hips and then sinks further on to the toy. They both groan at the same time. 

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Louis says because his eyes are about to cross watching Harry and he’s pretty sure his balls are about to turn blue from the show. Without warning, Harry is turning again and then he’s slipping the toy out of himself and settling on Louis’s hips the way he started.  

“You’re done?” Louis asks, his fingers twitching to touch. They never push each other far enough to reach a different headspace but he still likes to be tactile with Harry during sex; he wouldn’t say it’s a crime. 

“You should do it, instead,” Harry says, his fingers drawing on Louis’s stomach, the vibrator laying by Louis’s hip. His cock is angry pink and wet, the flush of his chest reaching up for his cheeks.

“Bit occupied,” Louis says, wiggling his fingers and drawing Harry’s attention upwards. Harry curls his lip as if he’s forgotten the predicament they’re in and Louis laughs. “Come up here, use my mouth.”

Harry swallows and then folds forward to kiss Louis, his lips all but vibrating with need. “Sure?”

“Of course,” Louis says. 

Harry knees up so he’s perched near Louis’s armpits. There’s no tease this time, though; he feeds his cock between Louis’s lips with his eyes falling closed in relief. Louis could never admit it in casual conversation but the weight of Harry like this, on his tongue, is one of his favorite things. 

Harry pauses, draws his hands back through Louis’s hair and then holds his jaw like it’s something precious. Louis nods the best he can and then Harry starts to move, little movements of his hips to bury himself in Louis’s mouth. Louis presses his lips together and relaxes his throat, already knowing Harry wont do anything unexpected here. He loves the trust they have like this, the chase to bare this part of themselves without judgement or question, without worry.

It doesn’t take long and Louis knew it wouldn’t - not with Harry fingering himself in the bathroom and then walking himself to the edge with the toy, not with his cock leaking precome from the second he pressed between Louis’s lips. “Gonna,” Harry says and that’s really the only warning Louis gets before Harry’s hips still and he’s coming. His abs tightening is the last thing Louis sees before he closes his eyes, focuses on swallowing around Harry and bringing him back down with just his tongue. 

Harry pulls back after a moment but doesn’t slump down, just rests his cock on the side of Louis’s face as he undoes the wrist cuffs in two quick movements. Louis kisses his groin since it’s what he can reach and thinks about telling Harry to leave the cuffs for awhile longer. 

Before he really can, Harry is slinking back down his body to deposit himself against Louis’s front, kissing him so hard neither one of them can possibly breathe. Louis twists his wrists to stretch them and brings his hands to Harry’s back, holding him close while they kiss, smoothing up and down his back in a steady rhythm. 

He can’t really help himself when he smooths his hand down to Harry’s ass and spreads him to feel where he’s slick and stretched. He presses one finger inside and Harry goes still on top of him. Louis thinks he’s overly sensitive from his orgasm but then he groans so loud it even ricochets through Louis’s chest. Louis surges up to flip Harry to his back, their lips hardly disconnecting. Harry makes a noise of surprise and blinks slowly when he finds he’s the one on the pillows.

Louis climbs off the bed to finally get rid of his sweatpants and gets a hand around himself for some relief. He reaches for the discarded vibrator and lifts it up to Harry’s eyeline. “Want me to show you how to use this thing?”

“I think I did pretty good, if I do say so myself,” Harry says, his smile and flushed cheeks fucking up the indignant tone he was going for. 

Louis gets between his leg and kisses a line from hip to hip, smiling against his skin. “I think you did great.” Harry’s cock twitches in slight interest. Louis knows he’ll have to go slow to build him up again but he’s willing to take on the challenge. “I think I can do better.”

Harry puts his hands behind his head, cocky as Louis has ever seen him, smirk pressing his lips. “Go for it, darling.”

*

It’s when Louis has the toy pressed inside Harry twenty minutes later that he finally switches on the vibration and sends Harry into a tailspin of kicked legs and hands scrambling for the bed covers. He’s sweaty and covered in lube but, to be fair, so is Louis. He’s managed to tease Harry to the point of being a shivery ball of nerves but he’s right there alongside him, his cock drooling each time he so much as touches himself. There’s three speeds on the toy but he sticks with the lowest as Harry’s abs crunch and his back bows off the bed.

This is how days off of work should be spent, Louis thinks absently. He kisses Harry’s cock and thinks about telling him but then Harry’s hands are in his hair, pulling, and he thinks better of it. He pulls the toy out slowly and Harry keens with the loss, his hips pressing up, his body clenching against nothing. Louis tugs on his own cock as he reaches for the nightstand but Harry stops him with a hand on his hip. 

“Don’t need one,” he says. 

Louis tilts his head, “You’re sure?” They got tested three months ago just for the sake of being healthy but fucking bare is still a rare occurrence for them. It’s messy, for one, and neither one of them particularly minds the feeling of a condom when it cuts down on the work after they’re fucked senseless.

“Yeah,” Harry says, digging his fingertips in to Louis’s skin. “Already a mess anyway.”

Louis smiles and kisses him. “Alright.”

“Plus,” Harry says lightly, “Want to feel you.”

It’s so cliche Louis should laugh but he kisses Harry again instead. “Always want that,” he says. 

He presses in slowly but they know neither one of them is going to last that long. Though it’s messy, to be bare is like ecstacy tucked under Louis’s tongue, a straight shot of pleasure on the edge of consuming him. Harry throws his head back when Louis pauses his hips, the sweat shiny line from his belly button to the stretch of his neck making Louis want to taste. He kisses what he can and then starts hitching his hips in slow motions, watching the twitch of Harry’s eyebrows and each gasped breath on his lips. When Harry gets around to opening his eyes again, he reaches for Louis’s hands, twisting their fingers together and pressing down against the mattress.

“You think you can come like that?” Louis asks, a smirk on his lips as he squeezes Harry’s hands. 

“Think so,” Harry grits, grinding his hips slightly.

Louis catches his pace and then adjusts his knees and waits for Harry’s buzzing hum so he knows he’s got it right. “There it is,” he says quietly, more to himself than Harry, as he presses in to hit the same spot twice. 

Everything goes blank as Louis picks up his pace, chasing the rampant heat in his stomach; heat he’s been holding at bay for close to an hour. Harry is slick under him, sweaty and burning but he doesn’t seem to notice as he fucks his hips down in equal measures. 

Eventually Louis closes his eyes to focus on how the vibrating nerves in his stomach are turning him into more of an animal as he drives his hips, only one thing on his mind. He feels everything building and fizzing, mounting and exploding as he curls his toes. The thing to drive him over the edge is a sweet gasp from Harry’s mouth and two squeezed hands as he ricochets off the edge of everything, a freefall sending his mind into white space, his muscles convulsing as he comes. 

His edges come back slowly, enough to open his eyes to see Harry. His head is thrown back this time, his grip tight on Louis’s hands as Louis drives his hips lazily. “You still want it like this, baby?” He asks, his hips picking up pace. “Think you can?”

Harry hums and his eyebrows come together like he’s trying to ace a big test. “Don’t know,” he says without opening his eyes. 

Louis has seen Harry on the edge of every sexual cliff possible since they started dating, and he knows this look already. It’s Harry overthinking something that deserves no thought. Louis gives him another couple of seconds of steady fucking before he pulls out and slips to his stomach, taking his hands back from Harry’s grip. 

Harry scrambles at the surprise but then Louis takes him in his mouth, presses two fingers inside of him, and sends his body in a taut hold. It’s by memory as Louis presses his fingers up and tightens his lips around Harry’s cock all at once. “Oh fuck,” Harry says loudly followed by a stuttered, “Fuck,” again as he comes, his hips driving up into Louis’s mouth, his body drawing tight and releasing rhythmically. 

Louis lets Harry fall from his mouth and then kisses up his stomach slowly, taking his time and tasting the salt on his skin. He licks over his tattoos and kisses up his neck, over his jaw, under his eyebrows. Harry’s eyes are closed but he smiles, eyelashes fluttering. “It’s crazy,” Louis whispers, kissing is mouth slowly. 

“What’s crazy?”  Harry asks just as quiet. 

“How in love with you I am.”

Later, after they shower, they make sandwiches with the supplies Louis bought at the grocery store and then lay on the couch and watch movies for the rest of the day in their sweatpants. They take turns putting loads of laundry in and switching clothes to the dryer but other than that, they stay under a pile of blankets, wrapped in each other. They order a pizza for dinner and open a new bottle of wine when it starts snowing outside. Harry falls asleep on Louis’s chest when they finally drag themselves to bed and it’s the most fitting ending to their Christmas vacation Louis could possibly imagine. 

*

Waking up on their first day back to work is far worse than expected, the darkness of the morning making them both groan when the alarm goes off. For the first time, Louis witnesses Harry snoozing his alarm rather than getting up, curling further into Louis like he’s trying to burrow.

They get out of bed after one more snooze, mumbles and quiet shuffling as they get ready for the day. Louis washes his face at the bathroom sink and has to smile when he comes out to find Harry laying on the bed, his pants pulled halfway up his thighs, no shirt in sight. 

“I can’t put my pants on,” he announces, voice sleep scratchy. “Monday has been cancelled.”

Louis laughs as he pokes through a stack of folded clothes for his pants. “Do you know where my blue trousers are? I swear I got them back from the cleaner before we left.”

“Put them in the closet,” Harry says, yawning. “Next to my purple shirt.”

Louis opens the closet and finds the pants right where Harry specified, a few of Harry’s shirts hanging next to them like they belong. “Do you want one of these tops?” He calls over his shoulder.

“Yeah, pick one. And then come dress me like a doll so I don’t have to move.” Louis rolls his eyes and pulls out a navy button down because he loves the way Harry’s eyes look when he wears blue. “Of course you picked that one,” Harry says, finally sitting up when Louis emerges from the closet. 

“At least I’m predictable,” he says as he lays the shirt on the bed with a smile. Harry tilts his head back when Louis kisses him, a soft sound tucked between their lips. Harry tries to lay back down and drag Louis with him but Louis spins away. If they get back in bed now, the office won’t see either of their faces until at least noon. Harry pouts while Louis steps into his pants with a fond smile. “Get up, babe, you can have a cup of coffee before we have to leave.” Harry twists into his shirt with a long suffering moan that has Louis laughing as he goes back to his closet in search of a shirt for himself.

“Do you know where my watch is?” Harry calls when Louis is in the kitchen warming up the Keurig. “I thought I put it by the sink but I can only find yours.”

“That is yours,” Louis says, glancing at the watch on his wrist. He’s already wearing his. He pauses when he sees gold where he expects silver. “Wait, I’m wearing yours,” he says. He puts a pod of Dark Magic coffee, Harry’s favorite, in the top of the machine. He starts toward the bedroom to do a watch exchange but Harry comes into the kitchen on his own, fully dressed with Louis’s watch in hand. “Sorry about that.”

Harry smiles as he hands the watch over and starts to put his on. “Thief.”

“Do you want me to pick up something for dinner tonight?” He asks when Harry is sitting at the kitchen island. “Or are you planning on working late?”

“I shouldn’t be late,” Harry says. “I’ll probably be overwhelmed and leave at a reasonable time, honestly.”

Louis smirks as he sits next to Harry with his own cup of coffee. “So should I grab dinner and meet you at yours?”

“Or we could get groceries and make something,” Harry says.

Louis hums as he swallows a sip of coffee, his mouth burning slightly. “That sounds like the healthy thing to do. I think the week between Christmas and New Year’s should be a freebie, though. The rule is we can eat whatever we want.”

Harry smiles, “Okay, well, Shake Shack wouldn’t be bad.”

“My man,” Louis says with a tilted smile. 

“But I need to take my suitcase back to my apartment with me,” Harry says. “So maybe we just should come here for dinner instead.”

“Don’t you want to see your apartment, make sure it hasn’t burned down while we were gone?””

Harry raises an eyebrow, “I’m hoping someone would have called me if that happened. So, no, not especially concerned with it.”

Lous smiles. “Yeah, yeah, okay. So you want to come here tonight and take your suitcase home in the morning, then? That’s an early morning to try and do it before work.”

Harry scrunches his lips. “I could come here tonight and get the suitcase, take it back to my apartment then meet you, and then we could go grocery shopping?”

“I thought we agreed on Shake Shack not groceries?”

Harry pauses, “Oh right, yeah. Okay, so I’ll come here for the suitcase and meet you back at my place for dinner.”

Louis hums, “Maybe I should just come here first and get your suitcase and then go over to yours?” 

“No, you’re already getting our dinner. You don’t have to get my suitcase too.” He smiles, “You’ll stay the night, too, right?”

Louis nods, “Probably, yeah.”

Harry smiles, “Good.” He kisses Louis again. “Glad we sorted that out.”

“My brain hurts a little.”

“Too many apartments,” Harry says, finishing his coffee in one long drink. 

“Honestly,” Louis says. He takes a slow sip of coffee as the word sits on his shoulders for a second. Harry slips out of his chair to the sink to rinse his mug. “Maybe we should just have one place instead,” he says. “Just move in together.” It’s heavier out loud, the first time either one of them has made an outright mention of it.

Harry keeps his back turned, the running water of the sink the only sound. Louis wants to say something stupid, something like, “Just kidding,” or, “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,” but he doesn’t. Now, out loud, lingering, he doesn’t want to change the words he’s just said or the implication. 

It must only be a few seconds but it feels like a lifetime before Harry turns off the water and faces Louis again. He swallows and shrugs, “Uh, yeah, maybe.” He meets Louis’s eyes only briefly before checking his watch. “We should go soon,” he says turning to leave the kitchen. “I’ll grab you a jacket.”

Louis follows him with his eyes as he leaves the kitchen, awkward tension trailing after him. He takes a sip of his coffee even though it’s starting to chill the way he hates.  _ Uh, yeah, maybe.  _ He swallows and studies the granite countertop, confident Harry’s hesitant answer is not the one he saw coming. He thought they’d be on the same page - they usually are with relationship stuff but maybe he got it wrong this time. It settles spiky in his stomach. 

“Babe, you coming?” Harry calls from the entry. 

“Be right there,” Louis says, taking his cup over to the sink. He braces himself against the counter and takes a deep breath before turning out the kitchen light and leaving.  _ Uh, yeah, maybe _ pounds against his chest with each beat of his heart. 

*

They’re both properly bundled by the time they get outside, puffy jackets and scarves, hats pulled over their ears; their gloved hands twisting together as they walk. It’s windy with some stray snowflakes every once in awhile but not terrible the way it will definitely get. 

Louis glances at Harry when they pause at a corner. His nose and cheeks are pink and he’s hit with the sudden memory of January one year ago, the cold mornings he spent falling in love with Harry without really knowing it was happening at all. With January looming here again, less than a week away, Louis can’t believe it’s been nearly a year since they started - four entire seasons of wanting nothing more than everything with Harry.

Winter was the experiment and too much red wine. Learning to fall in love with his best friend and dragging his feet, getting scared and tying down the butterflies fluttering in his stomach instead of letting them be. He remembers it all now like a roller coaster: bumps that made his heart drop, the feeling of soaring through the air like he never wanted to land on solid ground. And through it all, there was always Harry: pink cheeks, chapped lips, sweet words, and his heart on his sleeve. 

Spring, March and April, was when everything hurt like it would never get better. May was the soothing balm of falling in love all over again, the right way this time. Late nights spent talking over even more wine, afternoons of stolen moments when they shuffled off work just to walk around art galleries together. May was gentle and easy, the honeymoon after a storm that had ravaged them; soft kisses and long evenings ignoring everything but each other.

It was the last taste of Spring, the first of June, when Louis asked Harry to be his boyfriend officially - nearly three weeks after they started dating again. Louis smiles even now, remembering. 

They’d been out at a dinner party with a few of Harry’s colleagues, celebrating the launch of a new campaign. Toward the end of the night, Louis came back from the restroom to find Harry chatting in a group of people he didn’t know. He smiled gamely as Harry pulled him into the conversation with his warm smile. The strange part came when Harry introduced Louis by his first name and then went quiet, his mouth moving silently before he spit out, “Tomlinson,” like he’d forgotten Louis’s surname. Louis looked at him with wide eyes and then quickly shook hands with everyone in the group to smooth things while Harry regained his footing. 

The night already tasted like summer when they walked home later, too warm for jackets. “What are we?” Harry asked as they passed under a streetlight.

“Human,” Louis answered, playful.

“Lou, serious.”

Louis paused to glance at Harry, the small crease in his eyebrows. They never defined the thing between them and Louis hadn’t really thought to; he hadn’t realized Harry had ever wondered. For four years it was best friends, for forty days it was dating, and then it was aching heartbreak for two months. They said they had been trying it for the last three weeks and now Louis realized trying had turned to knowing but they’d never admitted it out loud.

“We’re together,” Louis said simply. “Right?”

Harry pressed his lips together and looked at Louis with a face incredibly reminiscent of a night in Central Park. “Are we?” He asked. “I mean, tonight I stumbled over introducing you because we’ve never talked about it.”

“What did you want to say?” Louis asked, squeezing Harry’s hand. “If you could have said anything, what would it have been?”

Harry smiled, played along. “This is Louis, the best person I know and, also, my boyfriend.”

Louis stopped them on the sidewalk and got in front of Harry to face him. “Well, there you go. I’m your boyfriend.”

Harry looked like he blushed, his chin tucking down. “Boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends,” Louis repeated back to him. “Officially.” He kissed his nose, his cheek, his lips when Harry finally looked up again. “Took us long enough, didn’t it?”

“Told you I loved you ages ago,” Harry said. “Maybe the semantics weren’t important.”

“The semantics are always important,” Louis said, smiling and knowing this was a double underline, big deal to Harry. Boyfriends. Officially. In a rush, it felt important to him, too. Not to define it but to say it out loud, to tell the world his heart belongs to Harry, to lay a claim on Harry as his own. “Which is why I’ll be ordering us matching boyfriend sweatshirts tonight.”

Harry laughed against his mouth, “Shut up.”

“Love you too, by the way,” Louis said, eyes shining in the streetlight when he kissed Harry again. “Have loved you for ages.”

Harry smiled, “Moving a bit fast, yeah? You just made yourself my boyfriend less than a minute ago.”

“Maybe you’re that easy to love.”

“I could see that,” Harry said seriously when they started walking again. 

Later that night, when Harry was asleep next to him, Louis posted a picture to Instagram, one he had taken when Harry wasn’t paying attention earlier in the week, arms crossed over his chest as he looked up toward the sky, pointing out something. He captioned it “chilling by the fire eating fondue” because it was completely irrelevant except in being a lyric to a Justin Bieber song. The next morning when Harry saw the post he didn’t stop laughing until he was out of breath and then he got “Boyfriend” stuck in both of their heads for the next week.

Summer was too hot in too many senses. It was muggy and Louis felt on the verge of damp for most of July but evenings spent on patios, nights stargazing on Harry’s roof and weekend trips to nearby bodies of water made it better. Summer was when they fought for the first time over serious things, spent whole days being irritated with each other, fucked like they were trying to speak with their bodies rather than their words. It was the first growth spurt in their relationship, the gritty figuring out how it works to be best friends who love each other the way they do. Fourth of July was Louis’s favorite - a rented house at the beach with Niall and Zayn, swimming in the pool and lounging in the sun, fever warm skin and bonfire nights, whispering, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” right into Harry’s mouth as fireworks burst overhead. 

Fall was like being born again. Cozy mornings and chilly nights, Louis’s work on the cover of The New Yorker and Harry’s rooms exhibit finding a permanent home in downtown Los Angeles. It was football on Sundays and crunchy leaves, Louis losing his breath when he would look at Harry and realize how much he loved him; enough to make his stomach swoop, enough to know he’d never felt that way before. Their lives started to fall together in the way they seemed to belong; beds were no longer comfortable for just one. They said things out loud when they got scared, they didn’t hide the ugly part of themselves.

And now, winter. It’s been the kind of perfect Louis didn’t know existed in relationships. Part of him knows he’s never let himself get here before with anyone else, most of him realizes Harry is the only reason he feels like this at all. His skin doesn’t get irrationally scratchy about being with Harry, his heart only skips beats for good reasons, and there are still days when everything else seems absolutely boring in comparison to being on the couch with Harry discussing odd facts about frogs they learned from binge-watching Planet Earth. Even going across the country to meet each other’s families didn’t feel big or scary - just like it was about time. 

That’s the thing, Louis thinks now as he and Harry descend the steps of the subway on this brutal December morning. Everything they’ve been doing since last January has felt as simple as taking a deep breath when they need to. Why, then, does the next step they’ve come to - moving in together - suddenly feel like the beginning of a drowning sequence?  _ Uh, yeah, maybe _ echoes in his mind again as Harry lets go of his hand to get his metrocard from his wallet. 

*

For laying out their plans so succinctly in the morning, things don’t really work out the way they envision for the rest of Monday. Louis is slammed at work since it’s a short week before the New Year holiday which means he hardly has time to breathe let alone worry about Harry’s weird answer from the morning. Mostly he’s just responding to frantic emails, pretending to have everything under control, and drinking more coffee than wholly healthy. He leaves work in the evening to find the city in a perpetual snow globe as he navigates to pick up their dinner and then over to Harry’s apartment. He calls Harry on the way and Harry insists he’ll only be a little longer; a booking issue for a shoot has come up at the last minute. 

Harry’s apartment has not burned down in their absence so Louis lets himself in with his copied key while trying not to let that draw his mind back to this morning. Again. The apartment is like an ice box so he turns on the heater and then straightens up the whirlwind mess Harry left in his haste of packing for their trip. He tries to wait for Harry to get there before eating dinner but half an hour passes and though he’s in love, he’s not superhuman, and he’s definitely hungry after a long day. 

He eats his burger on the couch while he watches the news, the snow falling harder outside as the sky gets darker. He ends up putting Harry’s dinner in the fridge when he doesn’t text after another thirty minutes and resists eating his fries because he’s a good boyfriend.

Eventually, he starts to doze under one of Harry’s warm blankets and then his phone vibrates against on the coffee table with a  _ FUCKING FINALLY _ message from Harry and he smiles. He gives it about twenty minutes and then preheats the oven and puts Harry’s dinner on a baking sheet to warm it without making it soggy. He learned a lot in college but the reheating fast food trick was, perhaps, the most useful. 

He hears the door unlock as he’s taking the baking sheet from the oven, doing a quick survey to make sure nothing has burnt. He arranges it all on a plate as he hears Harry taking off his coat and shoes in the doorway. 

“Hi, baby,” Harry calls, his voice sluggish.

“Hi,” Louis calls back. “If you get on the couch, I’ll bring your dinner like a proper servant.” He’s smiling to himself as he shuts the oven and then jumps when he finds Harry standing in the kitchen, ignoring the command about going to the couch. “Scared me,” he says, a hand over his heart.

Harry looks much like when he left this morning except his hair has deflated into damp curls and his cheeks are flushed from the snow outside. “Didn’t want to go to the couch,” he says. “Wanted to kiss you.”

Louis isn’t sure if he should chalk it up to romance or an apology for how stilted things went this morning but he’s always happy to kiss Harry, even the cold exhausted version in front of him. Louis smooths his hands over Harry’s shoulders and then to his wrists as he kisses him, finally twisting their fingers together. “Go, couch,” he says with two more kisses, pushing Harry back slowly. 

Harry shakes his head, “No, I need out of these jeans, actually.” He unbuttons them right there and shimmies his hips until he’s standing in his boxers. “Jeans should be illegal after Christmas.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Possibly.” He kisses Louis again quick, steals a fry from the plate Louis has arranged and then heads for his dresser and a pair of pants, presumably. 

Louis takes his earlier suggestion and puts Harry’s food on the coffee table and plops on the couch. He curls under the blanket where he was before, the warmth seeming to drain only a bit while he was gone. Harry joins him after a moment in fleece pajama pants that always make him sweat in the middle of the night and a hoodie with the hood pulled up. 

“Thanks for dinner, love you,” he says with another quick kiss before vaulting himself onto the couch on the opposite side of Louis. He grabs his plate and then balances it precariously as he shoves his legs under the blanket, his socked feet twisting with Louis’s ankles.

“Sorry I didn’t wait to eat with you,” Louis says. He watches Harry take a bite of his burger that is so big his mouth bulges as he chews. Louis raises his eyebrows, a mixture of disdain and impressed all at once. 

“No you’re not,” Harry says, swallowing. “Don’t lie.” He wiggles his toes against Louis’s leg and it makes him laugh.

“I meant I’m sorry not like I wish I  _ hadn’t  _ eaten,” Louis says, “Sorry like as a gesture.”

Harry takes another massive bite and nods. “Got it,” he says with his mouth full of food.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Louis says, closing his eyes like he hasn’t seen Harry’s mouth full before. 

He watches Harry eat quietly for a moment - mostly because there’s no way they can have a conversation with the rate of inhalation happening to the burger and fries. Also because Louis gets a weird fuzzy feeling watching Harry eat sometimes, especially when he knows he’s had a long day and probably tried to subsist on power bars alone. Not much better than Louis’s coffee addiction, but still. 

“Long day?” Louis asks with an amused smile when Harry has devoured every last piece of food and set his plate back on the coffee table. A SNL rerun plays in the background, laughter buzzing from the television. 

“So long,” Harry says. He makes a sudden movement and Louis thinks he’s getting off the couch or about to be sick but then he’s folding himself under the blanket and crawling so he’s nudged between the couch cushions and Louis’s body. Louis scrambles to adjust and tries to keep from falling off the front of the couch. Harry’s answering laughter shakes his chest and Louis couldn’t stop being in love with him if he tried. When Louis gets situated again, both of their heads on a throw pillow, legs intertwined like vines, faces inches apart. 

“Hi, honey,” Louis says, kissing the tip of Harry’s nose. 

“Missed you,” Harry says as he tucks one hand around Louis’s back, his fingers curling under Louis’s sweatshirt to be against his skin. 

Louis snorts, “When?”

“At work,” Harry says, smiling. 

Louis wiggles his toes against Harry’s. “That was like, only for ten hours.”

“I know,” Harry says quietly. “But I just spent a week with you, felt weird to be apart.”

Louis would cringe if he heard any other couple say that. He would vomit on the spot or at least pretend to. But when Harry says it he just goes soft and gooey and kisses Harry slowly. This, he knows, is what it feels like to love someone. To give up all standards for a gushy relationship and just revel in the reality of the one he’s got. “Thank goodness we have a long weekend coming up, then,” Louis says when he pulls back. “Otherwise we might forget what each other look like.”

Harry whines low in his throat like a petulant toddler at being made fun of and tries to bite Louis’s neck. He stops suddenly and pulls his away, “Oh fuck, I didn’t get my suitcase before I came home.”

Louis smiles, “Do you think the goblins in my apartment will have stolen it by tomorrow?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shit. I really wanted to get that done tonight.”

“What’s the rush?” Louis asks. 

“I don’t want to just leave stuff in your foyer,” he says. “Bit rude.”

_ Uh, yeah, maybe  _ comes storming through Louis’s memory. “I don’t mind you leaving stuff at my place,” he says quietly. “Really.”

Harry looks him right in the eye like he’s trying to read something and then sighs. “I know but I don’t want to invade.”

Louis plays the conversation from this morning again on a quick repeat. Doesn’t Harry know he wants him to invade? “Not invading,” he says now. “I’ll tell you if you are.”

Harry nods and then somehow snuggles in closer to Louis and presses his nose to the bottom of his neck. “I like you being here,” he says. “When I get home.”

Louis smiles and runs his fingers through the back of Harry’s hair. “And having dinner ready for you like a proper housewife?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not just tonight. I mean all the nights you’re here before me. I like coming home to you.”

Louis kisses the top of his head for an answer, afraid he’ll scream in frustration otherwise. He asked Harry to move in with him, he walked out on the line like a tightrope to ask something much bigger than anything he’s ever asked before and Harry is acting like it didn’t happen.  _ I offered to be the one you come home to, _ he thinks as he listens to Harry breathe quietly.  _ I asked for you to be mine in return. _

_ Uh, yeah, maybe.  _

_ Uh, yeah, maybe.  _

_ Uh, yeah, maybe.  _

 

_ * _

In the morning, Louis has to go back to his apartment before work for a flash drive he left on the kitchen counter so he gets up before Harry’s alarm goes off,  shivering as he slips out from under the covers. 

“Stop,” Harry mumbles when Louis sits on the edge of the bed to put shoes on. 

He glances over his shoulder thinking Harry is sleep talking but he’s blinking in the hazy dawn, face puffy from sleep. “I have to stop home before work,”  he says. “Told you this last night.” Harry sticks out his bottom lip and Louis smiles. “Go back to sleep.” He finishes tying his shoe and leans over to kiss Harry right on his pouty lips. 

“Can’t sleep without you here.” Even as he says it, his eyes are blinking heavily and Louis laughs lightly. 

“Prince Charming, you are.”

“Love you,” Harry says, mouth going slack as he falls asleep again. 

“Love you,” Louis says, scratching back through Harry’s hair for a quiet moment. “Let’s move in together,” he whispers. He doesn’t expect a response but gets one in the form of Harry’s snuffled snore. “Point taken,” he whispers before pressing one more kiss to his forehead and heading downstairs.

*

They plan to meet at the subway midway between their offices after work Tuesday night. Harry gets there first and Louis finds him as he’s putting a few dollars in the open guitar case of a street musician at the bottom of the stairs. His face lights up when he sees Louis in a way that never gets old. They kiss hello and then join the masses on the evening commute. The subway is packed and smells damp so Louis leans into Harry for the ride, presses his nose to his jacket to smell his cologne and the wool rather than the other passengers. 

“You’re being quiet,” Harry says when they’re at the grocery store, sharing one basket between them as they get a few things for dinner. 

Louis hadn’t realized he was quieter than normal though he doesn’t usually realize when he’s talking too much either. “Just tired,” he says with a shrug. Technically, he  _ is  _ tired but it’s a boring excuse. His mind is more exhausted from running in circles wondering how to bring up moving in again, what the fuck he’s going to do if Harry  _ actually _ doesn’t want to take that step.

“Remember last Tuesday when we just layed on the couch watching Christmas movies for hours?” Harry asks as Louis picks out some sausage for their pasta, pulling him from his thoughts “And then made Christmas cookies?”

“Yes, love,” Louis says, setting the meat in the basket. “I don’t have that terrible of a memory.”

Harry smiles, “Wish every Tuesday was like that.”

Louis laughs and presses a kiss to his jaw as they start walking. “We’d get bored off Christmas movies, fat off cookies.”

“And die happily on the couch,” Harry smiles over his words. 

“The American Dream, right there.”

They go back to Louis’s for the night because Harry wants his pinstripe trousers for a meeting and they’re in Louis’s closet. They cook spaghetti in tandem in the kitchen, Louis mostly in charge of a salad while Harry handles everything else. They eat at the table and talk quietly, telling stories about their day. 

Niall calls while they’re doing dishes to ask if they’re still coming over Thursday. He’s on speakerphone and Harry presses a finger to Louis’s lips before he can answer. “What’s Thursday?” He asks. Louis grins as he turns off the faucet. 

“Are you kidding?” Niall asks loudly.

Harry tucks his lips under like he’s going to laugh. Louis pinches his hip. “Sorry, Ni, you know we were out of town last week,” he says. “We lost track of our schedule.” Harry breaks and laughs, a snort really, and then presses his mouth to Louis’s shoulder to hide it. 

“It’s our fucking annual holiday party,” Niall says, exasperated in the sweetest way. “We have it the day before New Year’s Eve every year? This isn’t news?”

“Oh,” Louis hums, “That’s on Thursday. What time again?”

“Wait, are you fucking around?” Niall says, “You know how important this is to us.”

Harry pulls the puppy dog eyes like he feels bad and Louis feels a twinge low in his stomach. Niall’s party is a tradition - and this will be the first year he and Zayn host together. They’ve been talking about it for weeks, sent out save the date reminders in October. Louis sighs and gives in. “Yes, Ni, we know about the party.”

“I hate you both,” Niall says even as he laughs. If it were Zayn, Louis knows he would have already hung up on them.

“We’ll be there,” Harry says as Louis goes back to the dishes.

“We should pick up that Argentinian wine they’re obsessed with,” Louis says when Harry has disconnected the call. “As a host gift.”

“Good idea,” Harry says, scrolling through his phone. “I’ll be by the specialty wine store tomorrow for a meeting, I’ll grab it.”

“Perfect,” Louis says, drying his hands and hanging the towel back on the bar over the oven. 

“I’m gonna shower,” Harry says, stretching his arms over his head. “Want to sleep in tomorrow.”

“A whole fifteen extra minutes?” Louis asks, smiling.

“Every bit counts when it comes to beauty sleep,” Harry says knowingly. 

“Of course,” Louis says seriously. “While you do that, I have some emails to send anyway.”

“Don’t work too hard,” Harry says, “You already had a full day.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

Harry smiles and kisses him. “I know.”

Louis does plan to keep it quick because it is a holiday week and he knows no one else is burning any oil past quitting time. He mostly just wants to get a couple things off his mind, hopes that will somehow play into the weight on his chest. Harry’s singing carries from the shower and Louis laughs to himself as he opens his laptop. 

By the time Harry’s done, Louis is just scrolling aimlessly through Pinterest looking at interior designs, of all things. He’s been wondering about if they’ll keep one of their places if they move in together or start over somewhere new. He had once romanticized Harry’s lofted bed but now he thinks it would be nice to go somewhere else, start fresh. It used to be a question he could aimlessly ask Harry without being scared of making him run. Now he’s not sure. 

He clicks to his email as Harry comes out of the bathroom, closes the top of his laptop and spins away from it to face him. “Done,” he announces. “Oh no, I’ve got an alien for a boyfriend.”

Harry is standing outside the bathroom with a towel low on his hips, water dripping lazily over the ink on his chest, hair wet, and a foaming green facemask covering everything but his eyes and mouth. “Boo,” Harry says gamely.

“That’s not the sounds aliens make,” Louis says, standing and stretching his back.

Harry scrunches his lips, “At my home planet, we say boo all the time.”

“Of course you do. And what does it mean?”

“It means, lay down on the bed and let me put a facemask on you, too.” He waves the green tube, “It has green tea which is a mood lifter.”

“Boo means all that? You aliens waste no time with extraneous words, do you?” Louis says with a sly smile. Harry smiles back and it’s almost creepy, his teeth standing in stark contrast to the gooey mask. Having a nearly naked Harry play beautician does sound like a lovely end to the night, though, so Louis gets on the bed and lays flat, closes his eyes and lets Harry paint the green goo all over his face. Louis is not yet convinced any of Harry’s mixes and potions do anything worthwhile but they do feel nice. It also feels nice to have Harry perched on his stomach while he does it, his knees pressing into Louis’s ribs.

“Okay, done,” Harry says when Louis’s face has been properly smothered. 

Louis opens his eyes and bursts out laughing when he finds Harry’s towel has fallen off his waist and left him naked. “This is not very professional,” Lous says, his hands coming up to rest on Harry’s smooth thighs. 

“Oh shit,” Harry says when he glances down and sees he’s uncovered. Louis isn’t sure if he should be concerned Harry didn't even realize he was fully nude until Louis mentioned it. Hastily, Harry adjusts the towel to cover himself and Louis rolls his eyes. He yanks the corner to pull it off and Harry yelps even as he laughs.

“Don’t ruin my spa experience,” Louis says, tucking his hands back behind his head to enjoy the view. “This really is lifting my mood.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Pervy.”

“You like it,” Louis says. 

“I do,” Harry confirms, scooting up closer and wrapping a hand around himself so Louis’s eyes cross. 

“How long do I have to leave this mask on?” Louis asks. 

“Ten minutes. Why?”

“Just wondering how long until I can suck you.”

Harry narrows his eyes at Louis which actually looks ridiculous given his face mask has moved past foaming and is now drying. “Mean.”

Louis sticks tongue out and then groans when he gets a bitter taste of the goo covering his face. Harry cackles and loses his breath. 

Later, Louis isn’t sure if it’s the facemask or the blow job induced orgasm that lifts his mood the most but he sleeps soundlessly afterwards, a naked, warm Harry against his chest. 

*

Morning doesn’t come with an alarm but soft, dry kisses dragged over Louis’s chest, barely there scruff pleasantly following. He opens his eyes to Harry kissing his collarbone and then glancing up at him with another sleepy smile. “G’morning,” he says, gravel in his voice. 

“Hey, you.” Louis thumbs a bit of dried green on Harry’s forehead and then smooths over his eyebrow. They took off the facemasks in a hurry last night, they’re lucky they came off at all. 

Harry maneuvers so he’s more on top of Louis than wrapped, the weight of his body resting between Louis’s legs as he rest his chin at the top of his ribs. “I can’t believe it’s been almost a year,” he says, raspy. “Since I asked you if you would go on a date with me.”

Louis smiles and traces his finger over the curve of Harry’s cheek. “And I said no.”

Harry bites his lip. “Still. Almost a year.”

“Almost a year.” Louis brings his finger down over Harry’s mouth, traces the bow of his lips. He doesn’t like to consider what would have happened if they left everything alone after the very first night in Central Park when Harry brought it up or if Harry had never said anything about going out in the first place. It used to scare him to wonder if his feelings for Harry would have stayed buried forever. Now, though, he just feels the retroactive fear of never knowing, never finding out life could be this good. 

“When we started sleeping over together,” Harry says, “I used to watch you sleep sometimes.” He says it like a confession, his lips twitching into a smile. 

“Did you?” Louis goes for judgemental though he was guilty of the same thing. At least he used to wonder if it was creepy, though.

Harry nods, “I was so scared you’d figure out I was actually falling for you and you’d call the whole thing off.” Louis opens his mouth and Harry shakes his head once, quick. “But when you were asleep, you’d hold onto me so tight I thought you had to know how much you meant to me. So I’d watch you sleep and wonder if I should wake you up and tell you I loved you.”

Louis’s lips slip apart again, his mouth open in slight awe. Sometimes Harry does this, says something that feels like the beginning of a pivotal scene in a romantic comedy and Louis can’t breathe. “I did,” Louis says. “Even before I realized it.”

Harry drops a kiss on the curve of his chest. “I know.” He smiles and tilts his head to the side, “Is everything okay, Lou?”

Louis can’t breathe for a new reason. He swallows. “What?”

“I just,” he rubs his lips together, “Just want to make sure everything is okay since we got back.”

The words push on Louis’s lips as he swallows again. He should tell Harry what’s on his mind, let Harry get it out there, what  _ Uh, yeah, maybe _ was supposed to mean, if it means anything at all. They should talk through the decision and get on the same page instead of this tilted stage. They’ve been here before, they’ve fucked it up by staying quiet.  “Everything’s fine,” he says. “Really am just tired.”

Harry’s looks at him, eyes light in the morning glow from the window. “Okay.” He leans forward to kiss Louis slowly, gently. 

“Love you,” Louis says, tracing his hands over Harry’s back as the alarm goes off. “Shit,” he says quietly, dragging the word out as he drops his head back on the pillow.

Harry kisses his chest once more and then grabs the phone to snooze the alarm. “Ten more minutes,” he says, laying back down. 

Louis laughs as his eyes catch on the headboard. Harry lifts his head, “What?”

“I just noticed the cuffs are still attached to the bed from the other day.”

Harry tilts his chin to look up at where they dangle from the bedpost and he grins. “Maybe they should stay there permanently.”

“Easy access,” Louis agrees with a lascivious eyebrow wiggle. Harry laughs and tugs Louis’s face toward his to kiss him. They make out lazily until the alarm goes off again. 

*

Harry’s lips and body only go so far to keeping Louis in a good mood and he spends Wednesday and some of Thursday in a funk. Part of it is being back at work after a holiday and before another holiday - the weird middle of not wanting to start anything too big while battling a sense of urgency no one else seems to want to embrace. 

Then there’s the part of Harry - of not knowing how to bring up the whole moving in thing. Except he realizes that part isn’t what is getting to him the most. Moving in is not the prickly thing against his spine - it’s wondering why Harry brushed it off and never brought it up again. Maybe Harry has a good reason for not wanting to live together - Louis can’t think of any but Harry can usually see a bigger picture than he can, so he’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Harry not saying anything, though, pretending Louis didn’t ask the question is what’s pressing on his spine, his lungs, the spaces between his ribs. The indelible urge of wondering if this is all in his head or if it means something sinister. If this is the start of the unraveling, the one he used to be so scared of, the fear he’s spent the last eight months thinking was irrational. 

Half the office is gone by two on Thursday afternoon so Louis decides to join them rather than fight them, texting Harry he’ll meet him at his apartment in a few hours so they can go to Niall and Zayn’s together.

First, though, he goes to his apartment to get ready for the party. Even as he gets dressed, he finds himself cataloging all of the things he can see that he knows belong to Harry. The hair clip on the nightstand, the sweatshirt under the bed, the Gucci boots under the window, the broken lotus necklace on the dresser. That’s nothing to say for the laundry basket full of his clothes, his suitcase still in the foyer, the box of vinyl he brought over because his record player broke. 

Louis buttons his shirt in the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror until his vision goes blurry. They need to have a conversation - if it’s as bad as Louis makes it out to be, he needs to know. They know better than to let unsaid things fester - it’s been nearly a year since they learned that.

He walks to Harry’s apartment with another frown, unsure when or how to bring it up. He doesn’t want to do it before Niall and Zayn’s party, he doesn’t want to do it before New Year’s Eve, he doesn’t particularly want to discuss it on New Year’s Day. He pinches the bridge of his nose in the elevator at Harry’s; he doesn’t want to deal with it, really, he just wants it to work out by itself.

He lets himself into Harry’s apartment and isn’t wholly surprised to find Harry dancing in his red boxers to Beyoncé - or not dancing so much as swaying in front of his closet as he surveys everything inside. It’s the first thing all day that makes Louis smile, Harry’s thin hips rocking back and forth, the muscle of his thighs pulsing when he goes up on his toes to reach for something on the top shelf.

Louis lets the door slip closed behind him. Harry turns at the sound, already smiling. “Hey love.” He all but skips across the apartment to kiss Louis, biting on his bottom lip and tugging.

“Hi,” Louis whispers, catching his hips and pressing his thumbs into the softness as they kiss again. He kisses the side of Harry’s neck and under his ear, the pleased gasp that gets him making something stir in his stomach. He wonders if this is what Julia told them not to do all those months ago when they thought it was funny - use their bodies to avoid a conversation. 

“Need to get ready,” Harry says, backing up like he’s read Louis’s mind. He bites his lip as he scratches his stomach and looks at Louis appraisingly. Louis’s navy and white patterned shirt is tucked into his trousers and his wool coat is still holding onto some snow from outside. He’s put some effort into the swoop of his hair, mostly just keeping it back from his forehead. “You look hot.”

Louis laughs and rolls his eyes, “Thanks.”

Harry smiles, “Welcome.” He sashays back to his closet, humming to Beyoncé as Louis heads for the kitchen. 

Harry has a bottle of wine already open on the counter so Louis pours himself a glass, swishing it around before he sips. The end of the year always makes him nostalgic in a way he feels in his chest, reflective to the point where he wishes he were the kind of guy who kept a journal. This year, in particular.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

He’s always thought people were exaggerating when they said being in love makes the world seem different. Louis thought he knew because he had been in love before and nothing felt all that different; It felt more like being on a zipline, perpetually waiting to hit the bottom and crash. It took until this year, until Harry, for him to realize that the zipline feeling was never really being in love. He’s not sure what emotion it would be but it pales in comparison to what he has with Harry. 

Loving Harry is like eating wild strawberries in the middle of summer - sweet and soaring. Being in love with Harry is like removing blinders to look at the world the way novelists see it - sparkling stars and dancing snowflakes, shimmery champagne bubbles and sticky nights. It’s the very best thing he’s ever done. He takes a sip of his wine and blinks slowly. That’s why the last few days have felt so spiky but not insurmountable. He knows they’ll get through it, whatever  _ it _ may be - it’s the waiting that’s making him restless.

He has the glass pressed to his mouth as he swallows when Harry appears in the kitchen a moment later. He’s wearing trousers with black velvet striped on the sides and a dull, gold top that dives down his stomach and shows the edges of his bird tattoos, part of his butterfly. He’s smiling when Louis gets around to looking at his face. “Was Beyoncé your style inspo?”

When Harry smiles and his whole face lights up and Louis gets that wild strawberries feeling again. “Always,” he says.

Lous smiles even when Harry leans across the counter to steal that last of his wine with a quick sip. He smiles slowly when Louis’s gaze drops down to his mouth and Louis smirks.  “You ready to go?” He asks as Harry puts the rubber top over the rest of the bottle to save it.

“Ready,” Harry says.

“Did you grab the wine for the boys?” Louis sets his glass in the sink and looks over his shoulder. Harry has lips tucked inside his mouth. “You didn’t?”

Harry shakes his head, “No. I forgot. I was so busy with work, I forgot.”

Louis tilts his head, “I thought you were going to be by the specialty shop the other day?”

“I was but I didn’t grab it.”

Louis scratches the side of his jaw and then shrugs. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Harry tilts his head, “Alright, we won’t bring anything to their party?”

“Do you recommend we bring a half gone bottle of wine?” He asks, tilting his head toward the counter. “End the year with a classy bang.”

Harry smirks, “You’ve done that before.”

“I’ve grown up since then,” Louis says airily even though it was just last year. 

“So, you’re not mad at me?”

“Mad?” Louis’s eyebrows shoot up. He’s not sure he’s even been truly mad at Harry about anything - frustrated a few times but never mad.

“Or like, disappointed?” 

Louis’s eyebrows crinkle now, confused. “When have I given you any reason to believe I’d be mad or disappointed about forgetting a bottle of wine?”

Harry takes a deep breath. “I mean, this is a big deal to Zayn and Niall and I promised I would take care of the wine but I didn’t and now we don’t have anything.”

“Do you think they’ll break up with us as friends?” Louis asks, trying to be serious but his voice falters slightly when he smiles. 

“Possibly,” Harry says without smiling.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Louis asks, actually laughing now. 

Harry licks his lip and a laugh bubbles out before he bites down on his lip. “I was thinking maybe you’d be mad about the wine and then we could fight about it.”

Louis crosses his arm, one eyebrow lifting. “You wanted to fight over the wine?” He tilts his head, “This is you picking a fight?”

Harry hums, “More or less.”

“And what, do tell, would be the point of fighting over the wine?”

Harry shrugs, “Then we’d have to make up.”

“What?” Louis shakes his head, “You want to fight and make up?” They’ve had some weird conversations in their friendship and since they’ve started dating but this is quickly climbing the charts. 

“Yeah,” Harry says like this is totally reasonable. “Then we’d have to have make up sex.”

Louis actually snorts when he laughs this time. “What has gotten into you?”

Harry smiles slowly, “Remember when I left that fashion show party in September? And you stayed?”

Louis’s eyes narrow. They were both drunk and then Harry disappeared without telling Louis where he was going. Louis called him in a frantic mess and Harry said he’d gone for a walk to get fresh air. In his inebriated state, Louis had taken that as a personal offense. He all but ran to Harry’s apartment where they got in a pointless but loud fight about things neither one of them could really articulate, particularly when Harry started laughing and asked what they were fighting about. “Yes,” he says now. 

“Remember what happened after?” 

Louis nearly says no before a very distinct memory of fucking Harry against his apartment door pushes forward. It was messy and ridiculous, hot enough that Louis wanked over the memory on his next business trip without even needing to glance at the tasteful nudes Harry insisted on taking as a joke.

Something on Louis’s face must give away his memory because Harry smiles. “Make up sex.”

Louis laughs and starts walking out of the kitchen, “You wanted to fight over a bottle of wine so I would fuck you against the wall again?”

“Yes,” Harry says, following after him. “A boy can dream, can’t he?”

Louis laughs, “You’re so ridiculous, I can’t even put it in words. Why did you even think of that?”

“I was bored at work,” Harry says. “My mind was wandering.”

Louis looks over his shoulder, “Thank god you don’t work with anyone telepathic.” Harry laughs as he turns out the lamp near the couch. “By the way,” he says, stopping short in front of the door, “If you wanted me to fuck you against the wall again,” he smirks, “All you had to do was ask.” He misses Harry’s reaction as he bites his lip and reaches for the door. 

He doesn’t miss Harry’s reaction when he locks the door instead of opening it and then flips around to face him. He doesn’t miss Harry’s eyes going wide in surprise and then dark with something else as Louis comes right up to him and kisses him, grabs his hips to drag him closer, presses his tongue into his mouth.

Harry laughs when Louis presses him against the door, spinning him so he has to catch himself, his cheek pressed near the peephole. Louis kisses the back of his neck, nips the bottom of his earlobe as he gets his hand under the gold top, feels Harry’s stomach flexing under his hand. “Don’t let me forget the wine,” he gasps as Louis fumbles for his belt. 

Louis doesn’t pause, tugging the button on Harry’s trousers. “Think we’re past that, darling.”

“No.” Harry hisses when Louis shoves his hand down his pants to get a hand around him, thumb running over the head of his cock. “I mean, I did buy the wine.”

Louis stops moving his hand, his lips pressed to Harry’s neck. “What?”

“I bought the fancy wine from Argentina yesterday,” Harry says. “I was pretending I didn’t so this would happen but don’t let me actually forget it when we leave.”

Louis pulls his hand out of Harry’s pants and grips his hip. Harry hisses, forehead thunking against the door. “You bought the wine?”

Harry nods, “Of course I did. I said I would.”

Louis laughs so loudly his head falls back and then he kisses Harry’s neck again. “You’re awful. Really awful.”

“I am,” Harry agrees, his smile coloring his words. “Terrible.” 

Louis grabs Harry’s hands with his and puts them up near his head, flat on the door. “Keep these here,” he whispers, another kiss pressed to his shoulder before Louis drops to his knees. 

“Oh fuck,” Harry says as Louis tugs his pants down with him. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Watch your mouth,” Louis says, dragging his lips up the back of Harry’s thigh. “That’s a thin door and I’m sure you don’t want your neighbors to know what it sounds like when your boyfriend makes you come with his tongue.” Harry spreads his legs as he laughs, giddy and loud. Louis rolls his eyes. He loves this idiot, he really, really does.

*

They’re more than an hour late to Zayn and Niall’s party. They hold hands when they walk in, all fucked out and ridiculously in love. “About time,” Niall calls over the crowd when he sees them. “Thought you’d gotten lost.”

“They weren’t lost,” Zayn says, coming up to Niall and wrapping his arms around him. “They were definitely fucking.”

Harry cackles in embarrassment and presses his face to Louis’s shoulder while Louis shrugs. They have an excellent sex life, he’s not going to deny it. “We brought you wine,” Louis says, holding the bottle up. “The good one you like from Argentina.”

Harry collects himself and stands up straight, “We’re really sorry we’re late.” 

Louis slings his arm around Harry’s waist, fingers pressing against his hip. “Very sorry.”

Niall laughs and Zayn raises his eyebrows, “Just to get this out there now: you’re both awful liars and when you both lie at the same time, it’s incredibly obvious.”

“Thank you for the wine,” Niall says with a pointed look at Zayn. “You’re both very wonderful and we love you.” He comes in close to hug them, kissing them each on the cheek and then passing them off to Zayn. 

Eventually their hosts get swept up by the crowd again and Louis and Harry go to take off their coats and get themselves a drink. “Hey,” Louis says when Harry finishes hanging up his jacket. “You’re the best thing in my life,” he says. “I love you.”

“Stop it,” Harry says fiercely, kissing him. “You’ll make me cry.”

*

By the time they leave the party sometime past midnight, Niall is in Zayn’s lap on the floor of the kitchen and they’re feeding each other pieces of cheese from the massacred charcuterie board. 

“Are you sure they’re going to be okay?” 

Louis is halfway to putting his jacket on and glances at where Harry is standing in the middle of the kitchen watching them like they’re on the Discovery channel. Louis abandons his jacket efforts, the thing hanging from one shoulder as he crowds up to Harry, wrapping his arms around his middle. It never gets old, the way Harry relaxes back into his chest without hesitation, no surprise at the arms around him even as his eyes stay trained ahead of him. 

Admittedly, things do not look good on the linoleum floor. Niall has taken to putting grapes in Zayn’s mouth, pushing each one between his lips in a way that is, at once, sloppy and erotic. Louis pulls a face. “They’ll be fine,” he says. He presses his face to Harry’s neck and kisses his pulses as his hands slip under his shirt and rub over his belly. “Plus, I have something more fun planned at home.” Home slips out of his lips easily even if he’s not picturing his apartment or Harry’s. He’s really just thinking of Harry anywhere with him as being home.

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice is airy as Louis drags his teeth over his skin, his stomach clenching under Louis’s hands. 

“Yeah, darling. So let’s leave the boys to their, uh, grape foreplay stuff.” He punctuates his sentence by slipping his fingers down the front of Harry’s jeans. They don’t get far at all but Harry squeals all the same, wiggling out of Louis’s arms as he laughs loudly. 

It’s enough to get Zayn and Niall to pause and look over, eyes bleary and cheeks bright pink. Louis swings the other side of his coat over his shoulder as Harry disappears to find his own. “We’re leaving,” he tells them. “See you tomorrow night.” He blows them a kiss and he’s not sure they even see it as they go back to being all consumed by each other. Louis isn’t even jealous anymore - not when he’s got Harry waiting for him; his Harry. 

In the cab to Harry’s apartment, it feels like the air is shaking each time they look at each other. The promise of each other and a bed after a night out always enough to make them buzz. Louis holds Harry’s hand in his lap, twisting his rings for something to do, smiling when Harry shifts in his seat like this is all some grand act of seduction. Maybe it is, Louis can’t quite tell. He quite honestly wants to lick Harry’s fingers and he’s not sure if that’s being in love, turned on, crazy or a mix of all three.

They’re a dysfunctional mess inside of the apartment, Harry taking all of his clothes off in front of the door, one sock left by the time Louis hangs up his coat.  “You’re crazy,” Louis says, eyes drinking in Harry’s body inch by inch. “Absolutely crazy.”

Harry comes right up to him and kisses him, mouth slick and warm as his hands starts in on Louis’s shirt. Louis lets him go, smiles up at the ceiling while Harry kisses along his collarbones and sucks a gentle mark on the edge of one of his tattoos. He’d let Harry kiss his body all day if he could, all night, too. But he has other plans for tonight. 

“Come on, baby,” he says, tugging Harry up by his hair. Harry’s smile is sloppy as he kisses Louis again. “Upstairs.”

They make it up to Harry’s bed with hardly any problems, even as they try to walk without disconnecting their lips, laughing against each other and trying to catch their breath. Eventually they get there and Louis gets Harry right where he wants him: on his back in the center of his bed. 

“Hey you,” Louis says, perched on Harry’s thighs, hands drawing lines over the plains of his chest. 

“Is this part of your fun plan?” Harry swallows, eyes dancing between Louis’s eyes, mouth and body like a circuit. 

“Kind of.” Louis dips forward to kiss Harry slowly. “Was thinking of tying you to this bed.”

Harry’s hands trace up Louis’s thighs. “Yeah? We don’t have the cuffs.”

_ This is why we should live together, _ Louis thinks nonsensically; then they’d always have the cuffs and that fantastic vibrator, too. He knows now is probably not the right time to discuss it, though. Besides, talking isn’t their strong point this week but being naked, having incredible sex, and getting sweaty together is one thing they definitely excel at. “I think we can manage. If you’re up for it?”

Harry grins, “Definitely up for it.”

Louis makes quick work of finding some of Harry’s bandanas he uses to keep his hair back when he works out. He secures Harry’s wrists to his headboard, plenty loose to the point where Harry could slip out in an instant but also enough for Harry to flush from his cheeks to his chest and make him squirm against the sheets. 

Harry watches with lidded eyes as Louis snatches their bottle of lube from the top of the nightstand and starts opening himself up. Two fingers in and he gets distracted by Harry shifting under him, his lips bitten red by his own teeth. 

“Lou,” he says lowly when Louis quirks an eyebrow at him in curiosity.

“I’m not even touching you,” Louis says, closing his eyes over the press of his fingers. He rises up on his knees to pour more lube and starts again. “Yet you look like you’re about to come.”

Harry gasps a laugh, his chest panting like he’s been doing a lot more than laying on the bed for a few minutes. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

Louis moans softly as he the tip of his finger brushes the closest edge of his prostate. He swallows. “No.”

“Fucking beautiful,” Harry says. “Like a dream.” He says it as he shakes his head and Louis loses his breath for a moment. 

He tells Harry he’s beautiful all the time, loves to paint him up in compliments, hold him and whisper against his ear how pretty he is just to make him blush. He always thinks it’s funny, the way Harry melts at something so simple but Louis gets it whenever Harry says it to him, low and airy like it’s a devotional and not a guise to get what he wants.

Louis shakes his head and slips his fingers out of his body, wiping them on the blanket near Harry’s hip. “God, you’re lovely, aren’t you?”

Harry doesn’t get a chance to answer as Louis gets a hand on his cock and jerks him slowly for a moment before reaching for a condom. It’s far too late for Harry to be bare inside of him; he already knows there’s no way he’s leaving this bed to shower tonight. He kisses Harry’s clenched abs then rolls the condom over him, kissing the base of his cock once it’s on. 

“Come on,” Harry says, teeth clenched. “Get on me.”

Louis smiles, “Alright, pretty boy.” He gets in position and then sinks slowly, the guttural moan pulled from Harry able to encompass his feelings just as well.

Once upon a time, sex was more transactional for Louis, orgasms and a nap, maybe a conversation on his way out. But never with Harry. With Harry, they go slow, eyes caught on each other until pleasure makes them close, indisputable magnetism between their bodies, whispered words and fingernails on skin. It’s all the things Louis imagines happens in romance novels but not in real life, his life. Leave it to Harry to prove him wrong.

Harry comes first, a full body orgasm that has his back curving up, his wrists coming loose with the power of it. Louis can’t even be mad about it as Harry uses his newly freed hand to pull Louis off, the perfect pressure and perfect words to make Louis collapse right on top of him, shaking as his orgasm tears him apart and then Harry’s sweet lips bring him back to earth. 

“Okay?” Harry whispers once Louis has caught his breath.

“Of course,” Louis says, smudging a kiss on Harry’s jaw. “That was fun.”

“A lot of fun,” Harry says. He rolls on his side so he can slot his legs with Louis’s, their heads sharing a pillow. “Do you think Zayn and Niall are alive?”

Louis laughs, his eyes closing as he runs his fingers over the edge of Harry’s ribs. “I’m sure they are. Probably in a charcuterie coma.” Harry laughs and Louis can see his eyes shining in the dark. He kisses Harry’s smile and tugs him impossibly closer as they both start to drift asleep, right where they’re supposed to be.

*

They’re miraculously not hungover in the morning and they celebrate with slow, sleepy sex. It’s unhurried and warm under the covers, their lips cracked and mouths dry from too much wine but somehow that makes it better. Harry holds Louis’s hands, squeezing every once in awhile, kissing quiet Louis’s answering gasps. They don’t do it like this very often - not with busy schedules and rushed mornings. It feels good, a slow burn as a fire starts low in the pit of Louis’s belly.

After, Harry lays on top of Louis and dozes on and off, his fingers drawing shapes on Louis’s bicep every once in awhile. They’ve been avoiding the elephant in the corner for too long and Louis wants to say it, make them have the conversation they so badly need to have but nothing comes. He doesn’t want to ruin this soft moment, puncture it like a needle ruins a balloon. 

“Are you excited for tonight?” Harry asks, his voice rumbling through his chest and, by default, Louis’s chest. 

“Yeah,” Louis says. He runs his fingers through Harry’s hair, twisting and then releasing the loose curls. “Excited to start the year with you.”

Harry lifts his head, a smile playing on the corners of his mouth. “That was mushy.”

“Was it?” 

Harry laughs, “Very mushy.” He runs his fingers up over the side of Louis’s hip in a way that feels like heaven.

“Should I take it back?” Louis asks after a quiet moment when he remembers they’re having a conversation. “Say I’m dreading it?”

Harry starts to press his fingers just under Louis’s ribs and it makes him squeal, scrambling to capture Harry’s wrists and wiggling fingers. They twist on the bed in a mess of laughter as they both try for the upper hand. Louis gets it in the end, holding Harry’s wrists together as Harry goes limp on top of him.

“Got you,” he whispers, kissing the edge of Harry’s hairline as he feels Harry smile against his collarbone. 

“Can’t believe it’s been five years since we met,” Harry says once they’ve caught their breath again. 

“Five years since you were just the cute guy outside of a bar dressed for the wrong weather.”

Harry is smiling when he meets Louis’s eyes. “Five years since I thought you were going to tell me to fuck off instead of share that cab.”

Louis laughs, loud and surprised, the way he does when he finds out something Harry previously thought about him that he didn’t know about. “Did I look like I was going to tell you to fuck off?”

Harry nods, brushes his dry lips over Louis’s jaw. “Oh yeah. You looked like you had a plan when you came out of the bar. Fully dressed for the weather, perfect hair, perfect jawline. When you looked over at me, I thought for sure you’d laugh in my face.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, “I promise I wouldn’t have.”

“Well, I know that,” Harry says. “Look where we are now. You just have a fierce face or a way of making it look fierce, I guess. A good thing,” he adds when Louis opens his mouth to say something. 

“I was just going to say, I’ve watched enough America’s Next Top Model to know fierce is fab.”

Harry laughs and it’s this subtle giggle that turns into a full on laugh and happens to be one of Louis’s favorite sounds. He falls off of Louis because he’s laughing so hard and then he goes silent with it and makes Louis a bit self conscious as he watches in quiet amusement. “Fierce is fab,” he finally says, his chest pushing up and down to contain his lungs. “God, I love you.”

Louis smiles and rolls over so he’s on top of Harry. “Love you,” he whispers and then he kisses him, as slow and soft as he can manage until Harry licks into his mouth and all semblance of romance is washed away in fire. 

Eventually they separate enough for Harry to get out bed, his body littered in bites and fingernails that might make Louis look a bit like an animal if he didn’t have matching bruises to each one. “Gonna shower,” he says, smirking when he sees Louis staring at the most prominent hickey right on his hip. Louis watches him go, smiling at the small hitch in his step as he waddles down the stairs to the rest of the apartment.  _ Mine, mine, mine, _ he thinks, like some sort of caveman. 

He gives it a couple more lazy minutes before he drags himself out of bed to follow. He puts on a pair of sweats and then heads down, yawning as he flicks on the coffee pot in the kitchen. The water is already running in the shower but he doesn’t pause before going into the bathroom, the glass foggy already.

“I bought more of that mouthwash you like,” Harry says over the flutter of water like he knows that’s what Louis is going to look for first. “Under the sink.”

“Thanks, H.” Louis bends to retrieve it and then grabs a washcloth from the drawer to wash his face. There’s a new face scrub next to their toothbrushes, something full size which means Harry must have picked it out and not gotten it as a freebie. “Have you tried this orange burst stuff yet?” He asks Harry’s blurry reflection in the mirror; he looks like a blob beyond the steamed glass.

“Not yet,” he calls. “Are you going to?”

Louis looks at the tube and shrugs, might as well. “Think so. You want some?”

The shower door slips open and Harry pokes his head out, “Yeah.” He holds out his hand and Louis squirts some of it into his palm. “It has bursting beads,” Harry says, going back in and letting the door close. 

“You always love shit with beads.” Louis turns on the sink to wet his hands.

“Is that a sex joke?”

Louis laughs as he rubs the wash into his skin. “I was really talking about face wash but it could go both ways.” Harry’s laughter echoes around the space. 

When Louis finishes with his face and puts on some moisturizer, steals Harry’s deodorant because they like the same one and debates shaving before deciding against it. “I started coffee,” he says as he hangs his towel on the bar near the shower to dry. “I’ll see if you have enough stuff to make a scramble. Maybe waffles? I think we bought mix a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, we did,” Harry says. “It’s in the cupboard over the fridge.”

“Babe, I know where it is,” Louis says, smiling. It’s the perk of splitting their time at the apartments - he knows almost everything about Harry’s, the way Harry knows everything about his. He could argue it’s all a bunch of useless knowledge when they could both be memorizing just one shared kitchen but that’s an argument for a different day. 

“Move in already, why don’t you,” Harry says, an unseen smile coloring his words. 

Louis laughs lightly and then pauses as he looks in the mirror because,  _ what?  _ Did he imagine their conversation from Monday when Harry acted like moving in together was lightning down his spine?  _ Uh, yeah, maybe.  _ He scratches his jaw and wanders out of the bathroom on the weird edge of dumbstruck. 

He pauses in the kitchen and takes a deep breath. Unless turning twenty-eight has truly fucked his hearing, he’s pretty sure Harry just suggested they should move in together. Clearly they need to discuss this sooner rather than later if they’re both casually inviting each other to move in and then pretending they don’t actually understand what those words mean. 

He bites his lip as he starts circling the granite island, waiting for Harry to be done in the shower. His circles get tighter and eventually he’s just pacing, arms crossed, eyes laser focused on the ground. He’s trying to figure out how to approach the subject so he doesn’t even hear Harry finish until he’s standing five feet from him.

“What’s going on? You’re making me dizzy.”

Louis stops mid step and faces Harry who is halfway to pulling his shirt over his head. He decides to just go for it - no more hesitation. “Were you serious in the bathroom just now? When you said I should move in already?”

Harry tugs the bottom hem of his t-shirt to straighten it and then swallows. “Yeah, I was.”

“So why didn’t you say that on Monday when I said we should move in together?”

Harry blinks, his tongue smoothing over his lip. “I didn’t know if you were serious.”

Louis tries to remember if he’d made it out like a joke and can’t quite recall his tone. “Serious like a heart attack,” he says. “I asked you and you brushed it off.”

Harry puts his hands on his hips, “You never asked a question. You just said we should.”

“Harry.” If he’s learned anything about Harry in the course of five years of knowing him, it’s his incredible skill of skipping around things he’d rather not acknowledge.

“Also, it was like six in the morning and I was a bit hungover from being fucked like, twelve different ways the day before,” he says. Louis tries to be serious even if a laugh sneaks out; he quickly bites his lip to stifle it. Harry looks uneasy around his smile. “It scared the shit out of me,” he says after a pause. 

There’s a distinct swoop in Louis’s stomach then, like an elevator going down too quickly. “Do you,” he takes a deep breath, “Do you not really want to?”

Harry doesn’t pause this time, “I do. Of course I do.” He bites at his lip and Louis waits in the quiet, waits for Harry to get his words straight. “Sometimes I realize this is it,” he says, “You’re it for me and I get nervous. Not in a bad way but like-” he cuts himself off and shakes his head. 

Louis’s heart is doing some sort of thunder dance in his chest and there’s a wash of nerves poking at his lungs. He always feels like this when they have serious discussions, like the world might slip out under his feet in a heartbeat while simultaneously knowing Harry would never do that to him.

“You’re the person I used to dream about,” he says finally. “Maybe not you, specifically, at first. Not in a bad way,” he says quickly when Louis narrows his eyes. He takes a deep breath. “It’s just all my life I’ve dreamed of a nameless and faceless person who I would fall wildly in love with and we’d live happily ever after and all that.” He smiles, small. “For a long time it was just that, though - a dream. But, eventually the dream person turned into someone not so nameless or faceless.”

Louis shakes his head slowly because this is  _ so  _ like Harry. To scare the living shit out of him only to say something like this and make Louis feel like a fool for ever doubting anything as strong as the universe.

“It turned into you,” Harry says, his smile stretching ever wider, the nerves in his eyes slipping into stars. “And it can be hard to realize you’ve met the person you were dreaming of and then to actually fall in love and realize it’s better than the dreams, even the hard parts. It’s a bit scary, honestly.”

“You are unreal,” Louis says, a smile slipping over his lips. He doesn’t know how to say that Harry was never in his dreams - he just assumed people like him and things like what they have weren’t written in the stars for him. Where Harry is busy trying to realize what it’s like to find the someone he knew was out there, Louis is living in a universe where it feels as though he’s discovered magic is real. 

“Not unreal,” Harry says sheepishly. “Hopelessly in love maybe.”

Louis is physically unable to stand across the room from Harry anymore. He comes right up to him and slips his hands under his shirt, fingers to the dip in his back where his skin is still damp from the shower. “Were you just planning to never tell me you wanted to live together? Just going to hope I’d forget I wanted to move in with you?”

Harry swallows. “I was. I was just...waiting.”

Louis kisses his jaw, lets his lips drag for a moment. “For?”

“That’s a lie,” Harry says and Louis laughs against the curve of his jaw. 

“What’s up?” Louis asks, straightening to kiss his lips. “Tell me.”

“I mean, I  _ was  _ waiting. Technically.” Harry linkes his finger together low on Louis’s back. “But more like waiting to grow some balls and ask you than like waiting for the right moment.”

Louis smiles, “Last I checked your balls were perfectly intact. Quite large, honestly.”

Like he’s the Queen of England and has just been offended, Harry tucks his flushed face to Louis’s neck even as he laughs. Louis is quite proud of himself for that one, laughing as he lightly drags his fingers up Harry’s back. 

“You didn’t need to be scared,” Louis says quietly against his ear. “Considering I wanted it, too.” He’s still not sure he fully understands Harry’s reaction from Monday, the lightning down his spine bit and  _ Yeah, sure, maybe _ . “You could have just talked about it with me when I brought it up, you know.” He keeps his voice light because he’s not upset but communication is something they can always improve.

Harry takes a step back, his eyes shining like he’s going to laugh. Louis raises his eyebrows. “Do you even realize the emotional turmoil that conversation had on me?”

Louis shakes his head, “Probably not.”

“You don’t ask for anything first,” he says. “You don’t say things first. I love you,” he says quickly. “But you didn’t say ‘I love you’ back until we were having sex three hours after I said it first, remember?”

Louis drops his mouth open, “I had no idea you kept record of such things.”

Harry smiles, “At least half of my brain is dedicated to you, babe. Dumb little things and big things, all the things.”

“Wait, I asked you to be my boyfriend, officially, first,” Louis says, going back to June. 

“You made me say it first. You asked me what I wanted to call you and then you declared us to be official after I said boyfriend.”

Louis crosses his arms, “You ever let anything slide in the Louis part of your brain?” Harry bites his lip and shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“Anyway,” Harry says pointedly. “I’d been thinking about us moving in together and trying to get up the nerve to say it at Christmas and then you just - you went and did it instead.”

Louis laughs, his arms falling down by his sides. “Caught you off guard, did I?”

“Completely,” Harry says, the corner of his lips quirking up. “And then you kept hinting at it all week and each time I felt worse for not saying anything.”

“Well, file that away in the Louis file, baby,” Louis grins, “Always a surprise, I am.”

He holds out his arms for Harry to fall into, kissing him long and slow until they both pull back. Louis smooths Harry’s wet hair off his forehead and kisses his cheek. “Since you’re the one that always has to be first,” he says, “Should I give you the honor of asking this one?”

Harry’s laughter is loud and bursting and Louis falls more in love with him by the second. “Why don’t you ask me?” he says, “Change the game.”

Louis nods because he’s going to try take this very seriously. He fails and laughs anyway. “Harry, love, will you please move in with me? Maybe not my apartment, or your apartment, maybe a new apartment? Or, perhaps a cardboard box on the street?”

Harry smiles, his front teeth endearing Louis like a fool. “I’d move in with you under a bridge, we could be trolls.”

“I fucking love you,” Louis says and he swears he can feel his heart pounding on his chest. It’s one of those moments of discovering magic is real again. 

“I love fucking you,” Harry says and then tilts his head and slowly says, “I fucking love you.” 

Louis laughs and kisses him hard, no idea if Harry was making a joke or had his words mixed up but he still loves him the way the sky loves blue. Sometimes it feels impossible and sometimes he thinks if it could swallow him up, pull him under, never let him go; he’d be okay with it. 

He backs Harry up against the kitchen counter, folds him back over the edge so he’s nearly flat on the granite with his feet still on the floor. Louis kisses down his neck and runs his hand over the front of Harry’s thin pants just to feel him, smiling against his skin when Harry bucks his hips.

“Ouch,” he says loudly, probably at the counter pressing against his spine. Louis doesn’t get a chance to apologize before Harry just lifts himself to sit on top of it and hooks his ankles around Louis’s waist to pull him in closer. Louis smiles against his mouth, hands smoothing over the front of Harry’s thighs. 

“If you think I’m going to do anything with you on the kitchen counter,” he says when Harry pulls off his shirt unceremoniously, “You’re wrong.”

Harry laughs and tilts Louis’s head back with his hands to kiss him again. “If you move in here, or I move in at yours, or we move into a new place-”

“Or the cardboard box,” Louis says, biting Harry’s lip slowly. 

“Or under a bridge,” Harry whispers, “We’re going to have sex on every possible surface at least once.” 

“Fine,” Louis says, scooting Harry forward so their hips align, “For now let’s have sex on a bed.”

“Too far,” Harry says, slipping off the counter and walking Louis backwards. “On the couch.”

“Couch first,” Louis agrees, shimmying out of his sweats and nearly tripping them both. “Bed next.” Harry’s laughter is sunshine and sparkles, echoing around them as they fall.

*

They head to the New Year’s Eve party they were invited to a little after nine that night and after taking their sweet time at a new Cuban restaurant in Tribeca - a four course meal with plenty of red wine to stain their lips red. 

The city rushes by out the window of the taxi, their driver hyper-aware of not getting anywhere near Times Square on their drive uptown. Louis doesn’t flinch when Harry takes his hand, twisting their fingers together and letting them rest on the middle seat. He squeezes Louis’s hands three times but when Louis glances at him, Harry is looking out the opposite window. Louis bites down on a smile and then squeezes Harry’s hand four times in return:  _ I love you, too.  _

The party is in a penthouse, Liam Payne’s to be exact. Liam went to school with Zayn and then shot straight toward a higher tax bracket, and a Manhattan penthouse, with a start-up turned blockbuster company producing music for little known artists who can’t afford studio time. It also means the penthouse is packed with celebrity musical types when they walk in - the crowd wearing their sunglasses indoors, all kinds of glitter, and a few too many gold chains. 

Louis presses through the crowd to the bar, still holding Harry’s hand as they order cocktails and then survey the crowd. Music pulses from the DJ booth and that’s where they see Liam, big black headphones over his ears, eyes laser focused on the turntables in front of him. 

“A millionaire spotlighting as the DJ at his own party,” Louis muses as Harry takes the first sip of his drink. “Amazing.”

Harry smiles as he swallows. Just then Liam manages to look up and spot them from across the masses, his face lighting up as he waves. Harry waves and Louis lifts his drink in the air before Liam goes back to spinning. Louis’s eye catch on someone jumping around in front of him and then he nudges Harry as he realizes who it is. 

“They’re alive,” Harry says as he looks to where Zayn is jumping in front of Liam’s booth like a maniac and Niall is filming on his phone and laughing at the same time, barely standing up straight. “Very alive.”

“Guess we should make our way over there?” Louis asks, the crowd looking dense in every direction. 

Harry takes another sip of his drink and smirks. “Let’s finish this one, get another, and then go over.”

“So smart. This is why I keep you around,” he says simply, spinning back to the bar to order their second round when Harry laughs.

They spend the march up to midnight dancing near the DJ booth, enjoying a birds eye view of the city out every window, and having too many drinks to count all while surrounded by a pulsing crowd of faces both familiar and strange. At one point, Harry ends up in the DJ booth with Liam and Louis has to get a picture of the pure concentration on his face as he puts together a haphazard remix of a “Wild Thoughts” and “Side-to-Side” mashup. By the time he gets back to Louis, his cheeks are flushed and his hairline damp, an unbreakable smile on his face as he comes off the adrenaline high of controlling a crowd with a simple beat.

Closer to midnight, the entire crowd seems to funnel out to the balcony, alcohol serving as a blanket considering almost no one stops to get their jackets. There’s a group of waiters with trays covered in champagne glasses and Harry grabs them each one as Louis leads the way to an open corner of the balcony. 

Louis smiles as he notices Liam and Niall running around turning on the space heaters, a wild look in their eyes like maybe this should have been done much earlier. The more the crowd pulses out of the apartment, the closer everyone seems to get which adds considerably to the warmth - at least more than the heaters. “This is gorgeous,” Harry says just to Louis, their bodies slotted together against the railing overlooking the city. 

“Should be on a postcard,” Louis agrees, slipping one arm around Harry’s waist and pressing a quick kiss to his jaw.

Some people have clearly forgeone the tradition of waiting until midnight to celebrate because fireworks shoot off in the distance, a dazzle of sparkles before disappearing into nothing. Louis glances away from it to find Harry looking at him and he has to kiss him, slow and easy - maybe screwing the midnight tradition themselves. 

Everyone near them is loud by default or simply drunk but Louis hardly notices as he pulls back to smile at Harry. It’s like a bubble has descended over them - something magical but precious, a party of two in a crowd, the best company they could ask for. 

Louis can no longer count how many midnights he’s spent with Harry in the last five years. In the beginning, there were plenty of bars and clubs at midnight, getting bored and trying to decide where to go next. Slowly those became mixed in with midnights spent on couches watching movies or staging miniature FIFA tournaments. Midnight working on projects side by side, getting to know each other when tiredness turned to delirium.

These days, Louis spends most of his midnights with Harry. There are still midnights out at parties or on the couch binging a Netflix series on a weeknight - just like old times. The newer midnights are spent in bed sharing secrets, dancing in the glow of the refrigerator after ditching a night out early, roaming around in grocery stores when they decide to make cookies instead of going to sleep. Midnights when they’re bone tired and already asleep, their hearts keeping beat with each other. Midnights in taxi cabs and on the subway, walking through the city like maybe it belongs to them. Midnights spent holding each other tight and pressing lips and tongues to skin in some form of a promise. 

Tonight, midnight comes while they’re wrapped in their bubble on a rooftop, a loud countdown followed by cheering and fireworks exploding across the city, speakers blaring the usual song - one that always makes Louis’s throat feel tight. Tonight, midnight is looking into Harry’s eyes and knowing beyond any doubt he loves him more than he’s loved anyone else before. This midnight is slipping one hand along the side of Harry’s head as he kisses him, their noses brushing as they hold their breath, the new year dancing in around them.

*

The rooftop clears out soon after the clock strikes - talk of going to clubs or going home filtering all around. Louis and Harry don’t move from their corner, leaning on the railing to watch the lights of the city, sipping their champagne and accepting another glass from the passing waitstaff.

“I could get used to this view,” Harry says. 

“Do you think Liam would let us be his new roommates? We can share a bed.”

Harry smiles, “We’re very accomodating like that.”

“Should I ask?” Louis says even as he turns, his mouth pulling in a smile at Harry’s laughter. 

Liam is nowhere to be found on the rooftop - even with a mere scattering of people left. Louis’s eyes fall, instead, to Zayn cutting through the crowd and spinning a key on his finger.  “Liam had to take an artist out to some club,” he says before Louis can say anything. “Left it to me and Ni to make sure everyone leaves in a timely fashion.”

Louis wrinkles his nose, “Does it hurt to know you’re now considered the responsible friend?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, “Devastating.” 

“Is Niall escorting people to the door?” Harry chimes in with his eyes drawn over Zayn’s shoulder. 

They watch in quiet awe as Niall does in fact lead a group of men in leather jackets back inside and toward the door. He’s laughing in the process, face pleasantly warm. “The nicest bouncer in the whole city,” Louis says as the motley group disappears inside. 

“I told him when we leave we can get breakfast,” Zayn says, smirking. “So probably just a hungry bouncer. You both are more than welcome to join, obviously.”

“Breakfast?” Harry narrows his eyes, “In Brooklyn? Like the night we met?”

Zayn presses his lips together, “Perhaps.”

Louis grins, “You’re the responsible friend and the sappy one? Amazing realizations for the fresh new year.”

“Shut up,” Zayn says plainly. “And come with us. You know you love a sentimental moment as much as I do.” Louis raises an eyebrow and Zayn smiles. “Or at least Harry does.”

Harry wrinkles his nose when Louis looks over, “You know that’s true.”

“We’d love to go,” Louis says as he drags his eyes away from Harry and back to Zayn. “We can even sit in the same booth we did the first time, how about that?”

Zayn rolls his eyes yet again and Harry laughs. He slips his arm around Louis’s shoulders as he says, “See? You’re perfectly capable of being sappy.” He kisses Louis through his smile.

“Shush,” Louis says once they pull back, “That’s our secret.” Zayn stares at them with dull eyes and Louis smiles. “Something to say?”

“For being utterly repulsed by PDA a year ago, you guys sure do put your tongues in each other’s mouth a lot now.”

Louis just about falls over laughing so hard and drags Harry down with him, both of them breathless and repeating Zayn’s sentence out loud in between their cackling. Zayn tries in vain to not laugh and then joins them slowly, hiding his smile against the crook of his arm before bursting into the same laughter as Louis and Harry. 

Niall finds them like that about a minute later, an amused smirk as he tries to understand what is happening in front of him. Instead, he ends up taking a photo of the spectacle and freezing the moment: Louis on his knees smiling right up at the sky, Harry bent over trying to catch his breath and Zayn grinning so hard he looks like a Disney prince. It quickly becomes one of Louis’s favorite pictures of his entire life thus far. 

*

A little while later, they do end up in the same diner from five years ago though they find their original booth is now covered by a very large potted plant. They choose a table on the opposite side of the restaurant instead and ,as they all take their seats, for a second, Louis feels like it could be five New Year’s Eves ago. Then Harry slips his hand on the inside of his knee and points at something on the menu and Louis is tugged back to reality in a rush. 

There’s a curve of nostalgia for that night five years ago when they were just three strangers in a diner past midnight. None of them had a clue what they were doing and whether they would find happiness when they finally figured life out. They’d all had pretty terrible years topped off with a dull New Year’s Eve and Louis can’t say, here and now, he envies the Harry, Louis, and Zayn at that table five years ago. 

Especially not when Harry slips from the booth to put a song on the old jukebox and then dances back to the tune of Elvis, a smile on his mouth that lights up his whole face. He leans in the booth to kiss Louis before sitting, humming to the song as he goes back to the menu. 

Louis curls his lips to hide his smile. Niall and Zayn are across the table, engrossed in Zayn’s phone as they choose what photo to post on Instagram. They keep bursting into sporadic laughter like they’re the only ones present at the diner. When Zayn ducks in to kiss Niall, Louis looks back toward Harry, nervous like he’s spying on something private. 

Harry, of course, catches his eye right away. “What?” He mouths like Louis has a secret. 

“Love you,” Louis mouths back just to watch Harry’s confused eyebrows as he tries to read his lips followed by his sunny smile when Louis repeats it and he figures it out. 

Harry plants his menu on the table like a fort and bites his lip. “Come here,” he says.

Louis leans in slightly and whispers, “Here?”

“Closer,” Harry says, his lips starting to shake the way they do just before he laughs.

Louis closes the distance further until their heads are hidden behind the menu. “Here?”

Harry’s lip slips from under his teeth as he nods then he kisses Louis. It’s the kind of kiss Louis leans into, the kind that makes his toes curl in his fancy shoes. A kiss that makes him want to storm out of the diner with Harry in tow and not stop until they’re in a locked room with a bed. Harry must sense it as he presses in, his tongue slipping inside Louis’s mouth. It only lasts a second before a chorused groan from the other side of their menu. 

“There you go with the tongues in the mouths again,” Zayn says drily.

Louis and Harry pull back just enough to stare at each other behind the menu, eyes wide and stifled smiles as their cheeks go pink. 

“There’s a mirror right behind you,” Niall says, his voice dry like his boyfriend's was but Louis can hear the smile. 

Louis looks to the side and finds himself looking at his and Harry’s reflection in the giant mirror behind their booth, the menu still held up in front of them blocking Zayn and Niall. They look at each other in the reflection and then start to laugh, the menu slipping from Harry’s grip as they curl into each other.

If it was somehow possible for Louis from five years ago to see them now, he would cringe. Actually, first of all, he’d probably wonder who the new blonde guy is, and wonder why he’s kissing the stranger from the bar. He would probably think they’re high by the way their eyes are shining, or maybe just drunk as they fall into another fit of laughter. Maybe, though, if he squinted, he would realize this is what love looks like for the ones who get it right, for the lucky ones. Maybe Louis from the past he would roll his eyes but inside his stomach there would be a butterfly spreading its wings at the very idea he might, someday, get to be one of the lucky ones. 

The waitress who comes over to take their order is only a couple years older than them and smiles like she thinks they might be a little crazy. When she asks what they want to order, Harry goes first and asks for the cookie dough waffle with hot fudge sauce and whip cream on the top. The other three stare at him for a quiet beat before all ordering the same thing without glancing at the menu. 

The waffles are far too sweet to do anything but send them into diabetic comas but they manage stay awake for a couple more hours at the diner just chatting and commandeering the jukebox to play the music they want to hear. Louis loved the first New Year’s Eve he spent with Zayn and Harry - despite all of the unknowns surrounding them but, and he says this part out loud, this might be his favorite New Year’s Eve yet. Niall thinks it’s because of him so he gets up to take a bow. Louis humors him with applause even as Harry leans in to press a kiss to a cheek like he knows the truth. 

The cab ride home is a bit more subdued than the one at the beginning of the night, Harry falling asleep with his head against the window, his hand in Louis’s even as his eyes grow heavy, too. Something festive has gone on in the lobby of Louis’s apartment - glitter and confetti scattered all around the floor. They laugh as they navigate through it, smiling when they find it’s almost as slippery as walking on ice.

Inside of the elevator is silent as they lean against the golden railing, bone tired and hand in hand. Harry has a couple buttons on his shirt undone and Louis’s jacket is draped over his arm. There’s a mirror across from them - the same one Louis looked into during the first forty days of dating of Harry when he thought he looked a little bit crazy. He smirks now; it turned out that little bit crazy look was just him falling in love with his best friend. 

Now, they catch their reflections at the same time and smile at each other, through the glass sleepy smiles with tired eyes but smiles all the same. Louis watches as Harry’s reflection turns to him before he turns as well, the toes of their shoes touching as they kiss, as the elevator whisks them higher into the building.

*

New Year’s Day brings a white morning, Louis’s apartment cast in a glow as he runs his thumb over the curve of Harry’s cheekbone. Harry’s eyelashes flutter once but his eyes don’t open, even as his lips twitch like he might smile. His hand rests on Louis’s chest and his fingers wiggle before going still again. Louis smiles. “I know you’re awake,” he whispers.

Harry smirks, eyes still closed. “I’m not.” Louis traces Harry’s eyebrow with his finger and then his jaw, letting him pretend to sleep awhile longer.

Last night was five years of being friends, this morning is seven months of being boyfriends, in three weeks it’ll be one year since the experiment started. Louis could probably even calculate the number of minutes they’ve known each other, or perhaps the number of nights they’ve shared a bed. If he tried hard enough, he could pare everything about them down to a calculation and fill a book with statistics of their lives since meeting. 

He doesn’t really want to do that, though- and it’s not like the numbers would mean much anyway. Being in love is a learning curve not quantified by time, Louis knows now. It’s in the way his heart beats to the tune of Harry’s name and how he can close his eyes and picture the constellation of freckles on Harry’s shoulder perfectly. It’s all the things they know about each other - the big things everyone knows and all the little ones no one else has ever taken the time to care about before.

Like he knows Louis’s mind is running wild, Harry chooses this moment to open his eyes, blinking slowly at Louis. “Hey,” he says.

Louis smiles because Harry makes it so he can’t help it. He loves their midnights, their mornings like this, and everything in between the two. He loves Harry like a butterfly set loose in a garden. Happily. Madly. Wildly.   
  
  



End file.
